


Leuthold Preparatory

by skdryan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Academia, Dark Academia, Eventual Romance, Fiction, LGBT, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Modern, Other, Paranormal, Psychological, Romance, Short Chapters, Slow Burn, Thriller, Tragedy, mlm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 16:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15004448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skdryan/pseuds/skdryan
Summary: After being given an ultimatum by his parents and a bumpy plane ride, Noah Cooper finds himself locked inside Leuthold Preparatory Academy for Young Adults. Despite its luxuries and accommodations, Noah comes to the realization that things are not right with the academy. Beginning with his roommate, to his teachers, to the hauntings in the hall; Noah finds a friend in Hannil Sinclair, a like-minded individual with the want and know-how to escape after a series of events puts their freedom in danger. Noah is forced to make a choice that has devastating consequences no matter his pick.





	1. The Birthday Present

Home existed on 5438 North Abbot Street. A stone wall bound property that had wooden siding and green window shutters of the bat-shaped house from the 1920’s. It was tightly clustered together despite its size, having many curved doors and a cut off of the spiral staircase that were all stark white. It was hidden amongst large trees and forestry, one might miss it if they weren’t looking closely.  
Home existed on North Abbot Street. A nice, peaceful street where an ill-placed muffler was certain to have the cops called. A nice, peaceful street where trees grew in straight, little rows. A nice, peaceful street where the cars were nicer than the people. A nice, peaceful street where nothing ever went wrong. A nice, peaceful street where nothing ever happened.  
Home did not exist in an airplane bathroom where the only child of 5438 North Abbot Street clung to his phone as if he were soon to drop it as he had most of the contents of his stomach. Home did not exist on an airplane at all. Airplanes were small, cluttered, no space, no closed off doors, no eyes upon him. Home did not exist flying thousands of miles over an ocean.  
Still, Noah had his elbows on the sink, his phone in his hands as the water ran. Somehow the noise was comforting, it reminded him of the water feature outside of his bedroom window. An installation that had sent his father through the roof at his mother’s spendings. An installation that stayed no matter how it made them shout, then deny they were fighting at all.  
The Coopers’ lived a nice, peaceful life on the nice, peaceful Abbot Street. Nothing went wrong on the street. Nothing went wrong inside the home. There was a reason the curtains were drawn, a reason the doors were closed, a reason one could hardly see more than ten feet into the house, walls encasing them like zoo cages. However, Noah might have preferred those toxic walls to the one that now contained him, somehow all-too thick yet all-too thin for their altitude and speed.  
It didn’t matter how many times the stewardesses told him they were to depart for landing, it wasn’t changing his stomach’s mind. If anything, the idea of landing after nothing but the turbulence was a horrific reminder of his situation.  
Not even when he was flown forward, knocking his head into the plastic mirror, did his mind fully change. The stewardess outside the door was getting testy but he could hardly hear her voice as the captain came over the radio, his message was in French, then translated to German by another voice, then English, telling them that they were descending.  
Noah kept his hand to the door out of desperation to keep the persistent stewardess out. He could hardly think, hardly breathe.  
( _“You have two choices,” his father’s voice rang clear in his ears as he was shown pamphlets that showed far-off capitals of Europe. Noah remembered taking one, looking it over and thinking that his parents were planning another trip that would miraculously fix their marriage._  
_“Either,” his father had continued, dragging Noah’s attention to him, “You go away to university or a preparatory school.”_  
_“I’m in my last year of high school,” Noah had said._  
_“Precisely.” His mother said, her drawn eyebrow arching, “What have you got to show for it?”_  
_Noah still felt as though his school uniform was choking him as his mother looked over him with a scowl. No matter what, if there was a drink in her hand, her face could not lie. She couldn’t hide her own disgust._  
_“A post-preparatory school,” his father elongated ‘post’ so much that Noah had looked away to the birds and green leaves outside the window._  
_“I can take care of myself while you two leave. I’ve done it a thousand times by now.” Noah said bitterly before his father could speak._  
_“Either!” His mother boomed over them, it seemed she was fed up with how long they were dragging the conversation on. “You leave to a post-preparatory school or you stay here! Should you stay, your father and I will get divorced.”_  
_“What?” Noah had asked, he had felt his jaw tremble as he looked from his mother to his father._  
_“You either go away, or we divorce.” His father concluded._  
_At a loss for words, Noah had gripped his summer uniform tighter. Staring at his parents, he knew that his eye must have begged them to give another option._  
_“It’s your choice,” his mother had told him before taking a drink of her wine. “Leave and we stay, stay and one of us leaves.”_ )  
Home should have existed on 5438 North Abbot Street. All eyes and thoughts of the Coopers were of how nice and loving they were. A pity they only had one child. A quiet, pretty child with his father’s dark hair and mother’s dark eyes for a nice, peaceful street in a nice, peaceful house. A nice, peaceful eighteenth birthday for the nice, peaceful child of 5438 North Abbot Street. What could a quiet, pretty child do but accept?


	2. Akademie

Tucked between upright mountains, rolling hills, and a teal lake that faded into the horizon sat the small, Swiss town of Leuthold. It had little brown, red, and white houses, their roofs only slightly pointed, hardly visible above the hilltops. A single, winding parkway separated the lake from the town, cutting through the mountains to the east and west, every road that led from that was cobblestone and narrow; pedestrians and animals were common, Noah noticed as he sat in the back of the Mercedes.

He hadn't said anything to the driver; the driver hadn't said much to him either, only gesturing to the windshield when they entered the picturesque town full of autumn and rich, green grass, saying: "Leuthold! Leuthold!"

As they made their way through the town, Noah keeping his eyes to the passing Swiss people, never meeting their's but taking in their ease of how they walked on the street, seeming annoyed by the car if anything at all.

The Mercedes climbed higher into the mountains, where the houses were getting further apart, animals were more common than humans, and the trees were bright red, orange, yellow, or evergreen—all seemed ancient, as if they had seen millennia.

Noah moved towards the center seat in the back when the car rounded a farm with a large willow tree and the forest fully opened, revealing a sprawling campus where students were already about, dressed in merlot red, black, and white. They weren't in the way of the car, ignoring it as it went by them and by one of the campus's building's; it was a large Tudor home with a single tower that poked above the trees.

Noah managed to look back in time to see LEUTHOLD AKADEMIE in large, gold letters on a black archway over the road. The pictures had made Leuthold Preparatory Academy for Young Adults seem small, despite the dozens of pictures in the pamphlet, there had been few online. What lay before Noah, around the turn of the courtyard and a large garden, was nothing short of a castle.

Even when Noah stepped out of the car, he could hardly feel as though he were supposed to be there. His skin felt as though it were crawling, that if he took a step forward he would be stepping right into a wall. Surely he must be seeing a painting, surely he must be mistaken.

Yet, he walked towards the castle, up the rounded steps and to a large door that was already open. Inside, he could see another uniformed student with her blazer off, revealing her white button-up and pleated, waist-high skirt, she was sweeping the floor and only spared him a glance before returning to her task.

"Mr. Cooper," a voice came over him, distracting him from even approaching the sweeping girl to a man in a black suit with a red tie and pin depicting the owl that was the academy's logo.

"I am Headmaster Berg," he said with a heavy accent. He was a short, wide man with a short, wide head. He had a large mustache that was as grey as his hair, high cheekbones and fair skin that was starting to peel from a bad sunburn.

"Hello," Noah replied as he stepped towards him.

"You are already late. Come with me." Headmaster Berg said before looking beyond him and calling to the girl. His tone was authoritarian, his German so quick Noah knew he hadn't a chance of understanding it. Yet, whatever he said, made the girl turn her head and curl her flat nose and roll her black eyes at him before returning to her task.

"This castle was built in the 14th century," Headmaster Berg said as they started walking. "All of your classes will be in this building. The boys' dormitory is to your left from the castle, the girls' to the right. They do not intersect and never will."

He had such a fast pace that Noah was having trouble carrying his suitcase and pulling along the other, he couldn't spare a moment to think of why they were so heavy. Noah nearly ran into the headmaster when he suddenly turned back to him.

"I will repeat myself: they do not intersect." Headmaster Berg said again. "Should you be found sneaking into your unassigned dormitory, you will be expelled on sight."

Noah swallowed thickly, feeling as though Headmaster Berg had the same angry stare his parents did. He couldn't meet his eyes, holding his bag tighter as he wished to simply be alone.

"Because you are late," Headmaster Berg continued his rant and fast-pace with a turn of his heel, "I will leave most of the touring and the ceremony to your roommate."

"My plane didn't take off on time. There was a big storm." Noah attempted to explain.

"I did not ask why you were late," Headmaster Berg said calmly yet with such force that Noah flinched. "I only stated what you are to do now. Should you be so incompetent to find your dorm and roommate from your booklet, you are not suited to be at Leuthold."

Noah could only nod, feeling very small underneath the headmaster's gaze. He felt as though he were holding a violin again, his mother scolding him for missing the strings again, for placing his fingers wrong. He could nearly feel her grind his fingers against the string to grow calluses on his fingertips. He could nearly hear the noise it made, how he begged her to stop.

"Put your things away first, Mr. Cooper, change into your uniform, then head to class." Headmaster Berg finally said before turning away again, heading down a hall and soon Noah could feel himself panting for air. He hadn't remembered when he started to hold it.


	3. A Friend and A Colleague

Noah found his way back to the foyer, the sprawling marble steps and wooden walls were hardly a comfort. Neither were the gold railings nor statues that either were a part of the walls, ceilings, and archways, or sitting on marble platforms near beautiful paintings, some looked as old as the castle itself.

Yet, Noah hadn't the time to look at them, instead, he was flipping through his bizarre school pamphlet that had neither a picture nor drawing inside. He had thought it would be simple to find his way to his roommate, classroom, dorm, or anywhere.

"To your left" was not a helpful instruction as there were two buildings to Noah's left when he stepped out onto the porch. They were newer than the castle, brick and covered in ivy that was shaded from green to bright red. To his right was the same, ahead of him was the sprawling gardens and courtyard before the gate.

A loud yet calm voice called out to him in what was undoubtedly French. His years of learning it pushed to the forefront of his mind when he looked to see the same girl he had seen before. She had her merlot blazer tossed over her shoulder, her arms folded across her chest, her eyes were squinting to look at him as the sun shone brightly on her tawny skin.

Noah scrambled for words, trying to remember what his mother, father, and teachers had taught him. He was better at reading French, he had always credited himself with the ability to understand it written. Speaking it, forcing his vocal words to make the noises was far different.

"Englishman?" The girl eventually asked.

"American," Noah replied, somewhat relieved she seemed to understand him without him having to speak. 

"Oh, thank god," she said in an American accent. "I thought I was the only American in this entire place." She huffed.

"I'm, uh, Noah Cooper," he said, holding his hand out to her. He hadn't thought he would meet another American at the small, prestigious academy. To meet one that clearly spoke French and German, he knew that he had to attempt friendship—even if he believed himself to be too awkward to do so.

"Mi Na," she said as she took his hand. "New people always get lost."

Noah nodded sheepishly as he looked back to the booklet. Despite his literacy, the booklet was more confusing. Context clues were scarce, many words he didn't know were used. "You speak French, right?" He finally asked her, showing her a bit of the booklet.

Mi Na stepped towards him, looking over his shoulder to the booklet.

"My French isn't as good as my German," she confessed before shrugging. "But it isn't that hard to find your roommate around here. There's only a couple hundred of us."

Noah frowned at the idea of a 'couple hundred' candidates. He hadn't done well in school, trying to avoid his studies as well as his classmates. He hadn't wanted to go to a university either—it left him with little choice but to go to the academy. The idea of a 'couple hundred' peers he must endure put a frog in his throat. 

It seemed Mi Na sensed his angst and patted his shoulder. 

"Trust me, just go into the dorm and find the bed that doesn't have anything on it. Everyone gets to personalize their side of the room—whichever one is empty, that's your's." She said. 

Noah nodded. "But which building is it?" He gestured to the two at his left before looking back at her and the broom that was in her other hand, it distracted him quickly. "Why are you sweeping the floor?"

"Ha!" Mi Na had a barking laugh, she twirled the broom around her fingers. "If you didn't notice, the Headmaster and I don't really get along. He's got me busy since I insist on breaking into the pool all the time."

"Why?"

"Because this place is hellish about rules. Even if you don't break them, you have to still work on the castle, the gardens, or whatever else the Headmaster sees fit."

"No, I meant why did you break into the pool?"

"Because I like swimming." She said simply, looking to the side as if it was an obvious answer.

"There's a lake." Noah pointed to where he could still see the teal lake that looked just as much like a picture of the castle at his back.

"What?" Mi Na laughed, "You can't get into town! Not even if you're over eighteen!" She paused, "Are you over eighteen?"

Noah nodded.

"You're in the smaller house then." She replied, "There are fewer rooms--easier to find yours. Most of the people here are kids or high school students. Some of them are like us—just meandering until we know what we want to do."

Before he could answer, there was a high-pitched voice that came shouting in German behind them, clearly scolding someone inside the building. Noah could hardly make out more than the tone of her voice.

"The Mistress," Mi Na whispered to him, her voice drawn out and mocking drama. "Also-known-as Ms. Rae. She's in charge of everything since the Headmaster is typically in his office avoiding us after he deals out punishment."

"Right," Noah laughed nervously at the shouting coming from inside the castle, attempting not to crumple the booklet in his hands. He knew how they wanted to shake, but he refused them the right to do so.

Mi Na hardly said goodbye, she took her broom, patted him on the shoulder again and continued inside, he could hear her voice disappear as she spoke in German to what sounded like another girl inside the castle. He wondered if he should go back inside, but his bags weighed heavy on his legs and he looked back to the houses near him.

There was a definite smaller one. It had only three floors, made of brick and wood, Tudor in style and had the same ivy that spread from the first house to it. It had a single, square door that was slightly open when Noah made his way up the ramp, to the door, and quietly inside.

It smelled of warm wood and reminded him greatly of the music building at his high school. The walls were mostly wooden, what wasn't had floral wallpaper that had faded with age and bright sunlight. The windows were large and open, frail-looking white curtains swayed gently in the breeze. It was an old building, he thought it must have been someone's house at some point as he looked around the common areas from the foyer.

The entirety of the building seemed to funnel back to the foyer and the grand staircase that had a thick, wooden railing with designs and figures carved into it. He took in a deep breath before lifting his rolling suitcase up the first step.

Noah had never played sports; his mother hadn't wanted him to and it was one of the few things they had ever agreed on. He knew he was thin and he wasn't muscular, but it had never bothered him until he had to drag the suitcase to the second floor and walk up and down the hall to find what Mi Na had spoken of. 

Noah noticed a few things in every open door; it seemed the dorm was full-up as Mi Na had said. Only seven rooms on the second floor but most had two beds inside, one had three, and each were taken by the looks of them. He understood what Mi Na said. Each room was divided down the middle by what either side liked. Most still had the basic books, bags, papers, desks, comforters, but the colors, amount, and certain trophies and things clearly liked by the individual were there.

With each room full, Noah heaved a sigh as he looked at the secondary staircase to the third floor. He didn't think he would mind being at the top of the house, but he minded dragging his suitcase all the way up. Step by step. Trying to be as quiet as possible despite the lack of people until he reached the third floor.

Only some of the doors were open, a breeze coming from one side of the house and out of the other. The chandelier turned on when Noah passed by a sensor. He pressed his hand to his chest, feeling his heart hammering harder than usual. He hoped that he wasn't in the wrong building, that Mi Na wasn't playing a cruel joke on him. He wasn't certain he could climb the four floors of the other building, or even take his suitcases down the three he had already climbed.

There were only four doors on the top floor. It was smaller than the second, a bay window with window seat was at the end of the single hall, looking out towards the castle or towards the town. Noah left his suitcase by the stairs and went down the hall, the first door on his left was shut and he was hardly comfortable opening it.

The second stopped him in his tracks. The door was open, allowing him to look inside. There was only one bed in the last room on his left. The bed had a red and gold comforter, a soccer ball was on top of it, holding a book open. There were many athletic things, a baseball bat, trophies, helmets, pads, and uniforms hung by the highboy. But what struck him the most was an easel that held a board that took up the space where a second bed was to be placed, it was so large it spanned from the side of the wall to the closed door. 

It showed the near-mirror image of the view outside of the window, the beautiful town and lake, the mountains and rolling grasslands. It was incomplete, but it seemed whoever slept in the bed had both an athletic and artist career by the guitar, violin, and keyboard cases that were behind the easel, blocking the path of the door. 

"Noah?"

An unfamiliar voice called his name made Noah realize just how far he had wandered into a stranger's bedroom. He felt his ears turn hot before he scrambled to get out of the bedroom and into the hallway. The voice had been distant, male, and Noah was already panting when he got back to his suitcase and saw someone on the second-floor landing.

He was wearing the school uniform, had dark, round glasses with brown rims that faded into his tanned skin. He had parted brown hair and a square jaw, but what he was holding was what shocked Noah the most. A solid-white cane rested against his shoulder, held between his hands.

"I'm guessing you're Noah," the man said. He was around Noah's age, he wagered. He had a strange accent, it wasn't German but Noah couldn't place it.

"Uh, yes, I am." Noah nervously pressed his chest, wiping his hands as he looked at the other.

"Oh, good," he replied, "I'm glad you're not a bugler or something—I wouldn't be all that helpful." He said as he lifted his cane.

Noah watched as he set it down and carefully began to tap in front of him, finding the steps and reaching around for the hand railing until he found it and started to walk up the steps.

"I heard that someone new arrived," he spoke as he climbed the steps, "I knew you must have been my roommate."

Noah scrambled to move his bags from the top of the stairway as the other got to the top.

"I get it, I get it," the other said. "You're worried about being roomed with the blind guy." He laughed softly as he reached the top, "I don't get in the way, I'm fine on my own. Besides, I like being put with people that can see. It's fun to be challenged."

"I'm not worried about that," Noah said, hearing how hard he was panting the more he spoke.

"Just never met a blind guy before?" He smiled, but he wasn't looking at Noah.

Noah felt a need to both step in the direction where the other seemed to think he was, but also to leave him completely alone.

"Oh! I didn't tell you who I am." He said, "I'm Liam—Liam Horvat. I'm here to add to my education and to finish learning Swedish. I speak five languages, my English isn't very good but I hope it's easy to understand."

"Your English is very good," Noah replied, nodding a bit.

"Our room is here," Liam extended his cane, tapped along the wall as he walked by it until he tapped the first doorway on his right. "Even though I asked to be on the third floor, I still can't quite follow my way all the way back there."

Noah took his smaller suitcase and followed Liam inside, who was still talking, boasting about his life and family in Croatia. The room was plain, there were things only on one side of the room. There was a large window but the curtain hadn't been moved, no lights were on, and everything had a few inches of space between each item that was carefully laid out or put away.

It was then that Noah realized that the other door only led to his side of the room. There was nothing but a twin bed, desk, empty shelves on the wall and a closed dresser near the other door.

"Even though I can't see," Liam said, "I do ask that you keep your things to your side of the room...since I can't see."

Noah laughed nervously. "I'm tidy, I promise."

Noah waited for Liam to make his way to his chair before he went to his side of the room and looked at the bed-frame. There were initials from dozens of people carved into the wooden frame but the mattress was brand new, covered in plastic with labels still on it.

"Can I open the curtains?" Noah asked as he ignored the bed, turning to see that Liam had made his way to his desk chair and had settled down.

"I didn't know they were closed," Liam replied.

Noah chuckled nervously, nodded, and went to the window, opened the curtain and seeing a spectacular view of the campus and its grounds. He stared at the mountains for a moment before walking to the closed door near the foot of his bed. It opened inward and soon Noah was staring back into the bedroom he had meandered into before. He could see the bed and part of the window and painting, a trunk was beneath the bed, he noticed.

"Who lives across the hall?" Noah asked.

Liam paused, "I do not know."

"Looks to be some kind of artist."

Liam chuckled.

Noah turned back to him, seeing that Liam was rocking a bit in his silent laughter. 

"I'm going to get a lot of blind jokes out of you," Liam snickered.

Noah scratched his cheek nervously. "Sorry about that."

"What's there to be sorry for?" Liam asked, "I like happiness. I like making jokes. I don't know who lives across the hall, or really who lives downstairs. But I think we'll have fun here."

Noah stared at him for a moment, he glanced back to the room across the hall and felt as though it were watching him. He looked back to Liam and nodded. He looked Liam head-to-toe once again, his statement had felt strange to Noah's ears. Strange to his being. 

"Yeah, I hope so," Noah replied softly.


	4. Regulations

Noah found his uniform set out in neat piles inside his rolling suitcase. He didn't think he had time to put them all away, Liam was waiting outside of their door, he was humming a familiar tune but Noah couldn't place it as he put on his autumn uniform: beige trousers, white button-up, merlot blazer, and tie, before he put on his red loafers and went out of his door, his gaze lingering on the room across the hall before he looked Liam over again in the same uniform he had on.

"Do we have the same classes?" Noah asked Liam as he slowly descended the steps with Liam, feeling a need to wait for him on each step.

"We don't really have 'classes' at all," Liam explained, "As we are older—it is more that we have structured workshops and such things of that nature. We don't really have grades or anything of the sort."

Noah swallowed thickly, already hearing his parents complain about not getting progress reports and grade notes from his school. He would have to have the Headmaster explain why they didn't have grades, they might not even believe him then.

"Mostly you can do what you like when you like," Liam continued. "But you're not allowed to interrupt the teachers, break anything, or go anywhere when the building is supposed to be closed."

"Like the girls' dormitory?"

"Are you that sort?"

"Pardon?"

"The sort that wants to find their way into the girls' dormitory."

"What? No!" Noah replied quickly before catching himself, "I mean...It's fine and all, but no, I'm not going to do that." He sheepishly turned away, feeling his ears grow hot again.

"Some try it," Liam said calmly and Noah looked back at him, having expected some kind of teasing and felt relieved when he realized that Liam couldn't see his expression at all.

"I was speaking of things such as the pool and music building—or even the castle when we're supposed to be in our dorm," Liam explained calmly as they exited the foyer.

"Right," Noah said. "A girl I met earlier said she got into trouble for sneaking into the pool."

"You are a sociable person then?"

"What?"

"You have already made two friends after being here a short while."

"I don't think that counts as friendship." Noah ran a hand through his hair as he glanced around, there were students still milling about, some had rakes and things, laughing in the distance and seemingly carefree in their existence. "Besides, I'm not sociable."

"Is there something wrong with your face?"

"What?" Noah replied, looking back to him.

"Well, people avoid me because I am blind. I am told that some people are avoided because they are ugly."

"I'm not ugly...not really," Noah replied.

"Why are you uncertain?" Liam asked.

Noah paused for a long moment as they walked, he was careful to walk a step just behind Liam, not wanting to get in the way of the cane despite that Liam had it on the opposite side of him, hardly tapping the ground.

"I have been unable to see my entire life," Liam said when he didn't speak. "I guess it must be a sight thing."

"Must be." Noah agreed softly.

Noah knew that Liam was supposed to show him to his classes, where he was supposed to be and when, but he didn't ask any questions about the rooms they walked by in the castle. It seemed that, despite his eyesight, Liam knew where he was going. He talked a lot, Noah supposed it was better than awkward silence. Still, Noah couldn't think of a single thing to ask him, he wanted to point inside the rooms and ask what they were, but each doorway was labeled in German. Without eyesight, he wondered how he could describe them to Liam. It made him feel a bit useless as they continued onward, both trying to listen to Liam and memorize where he was--both he was failing at. 

In a moment, Noah felt a panic race through him.

"Hold on," he said to Liam before fishing into his pockets.

"Have you forgotten something?" Liam stopped but didn't turn fully to him, it seemed Liam thought he was still beside him--Noah didn't correct him. 

"No," Noah shook his head, as he took out his phone. "Well—yes, but I just forgot to do something."

Noah hardly had time to unlock his phone and find his mother's number inside his contact list before a shrill voice came over him. Scolding him in what he guessed to be German.

He spun around to see a tall and thin woman with grey, curly hair and pale skin marching towards him from an adjacent corridor. She was shouting in German until she stopped just a foot away from him, holding out her hand as she continued to speak forcefully. Noah grasped his phone tightly, feeling as though it might break from the stress of him clinging to it so desperately in the past day.

He had almost forgotten Liam was there at all; nearly forgotten all about him until he spoke clearly and fluently in German with the woman. She took in a deep breath and let it go slowly. Whatever he said, it calmed her down a bit. 

"Telephones are not permitted on campus grounds," the woman said in English, jutting her hand towards him.

Noah stammered for a moment before finally saying: "I need to call my mother."

"You shall call no one until designated times at designated locations!" The woman barked, her blue eyes moved to her hand again.

Noah held his phone to his chest. "I just need to let her know I landed and got here safely."

"She will assume that when she does not hear from the authorities."

After a long moment, Noah relented and dropped his phone into the woman's hand. She clutched it tightly, looked suspiciously at the screen before she tucked it into the pocket of her skirt and started down the hallway Noah had just walked down.

"Who the hell is that?" Noah whispered to Liam.

"Mr. Cooper," the woman said, making Noah flinch and see that she was turning back to him.

"Ma'am?" Noah squeaked.

He turned as he heard Liam move only to see that Liam was moving further away from him, into an open doorway and empty classroom. Noah nearly swore again as he realized Liam couldn't see his plea for help. He flinched when he turned back to see the woman headed back toward him.

"At Leuthold Preparatory we do not tolerate disrespect of one's elders."

"I wasn't attempting to disrespect you," Noah said as he looked downward, he could feel his voice shrinking, his body wanting to become smaller.

"We also do not tolerate those that interrupt them!" She exclaimed.

Noah flinched again, wishing he could duck into a doorway as Liam had, disappear from sight.

"I am sorry," Noah said quietly.

He hadn't realized he had closed his eyes until he was opening them again, seeing that she was writing out something on a pad of paper that she then tore and handed to him.

"As you clearly have not read your handbook and have disregarded what we do and what we stand for, you have been given your first penalty. Three of them, and you'll be gone, Mr. Cooper."

Noah's mouth opened and closed as he searched for words as he looked at the German scrawl of letters on the paper.

"I didn't—"

"It is finite, Mr. Cooper!" 

Noah felt his shoulders slump, watching her leave again before he looked back to the piece of paper.

"That is Miss Rae," Liam told him quietly. "She sees everything."

Noah inhaled deeply before turning back to him. She was no worse than his mother, he wagered. He had learned long ago to tuck his panic away, to force his hands not to shake. 

"I can't read German." Noah finally said before he offered the paper to Liam.

"Honestly," Liam breathed, "if you are showing me the ticket she gave you, you might be smart enough for the theater department." It seemed he was attempting to joke with him again, but he sounded so serious that Noah hadn't a response to give him. 

Noah crumpled the ticket in his hand, frowning deeply before he looked to the side. He felt as though it were strange that she had come and gone so quickly, but with a castle this big, he wagered, she must have to constantly be on the move. 

___________________________________________

Liam led him into a large botanical garden at the back of the castle. There weren't many people around, but Noah was glad to see the only other familiar face. Mi Na was talking to a blonde woman in German as they watered plants when he approached her.

"Oh, you found your dorm," Mi Na said nonchalantly.

"And Ms. Rae," Noah held up the note to her.

"Oh, fucking-a," Mi Na cringed at the note. "What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Noah whispered, "Not really...I don't think."

Mi Na looked unconvinced and moved to set her watering can down. "She put you on floor waxing duty."

"Floor waxing?" Noah repeated.

"Yeah," Mi Na nodded. "It's pretty tough work. They don't even have a machine, just a mop and bucket."

"Do you just know all the punishments around here?" Noah asked.

"Basically," Mi Na replied as she handed him back the note. "You'll need to be near the theater, that's the part she cares the most about."

Noah glanced at Liam at the other side of the room.

"Is there any way you could show me where that is?" Noah looked back to Mi Na. His voice was quiet, not wanting Liam to overhear him. 

"Get your roommate to do it," Mi Na huffed as she went back to the plant in front of her.

"He's blind!" Noah whispered.

Mi Na looked from him to Liam, following Noah's eyes.

"Oh, yeah, that seems like that would be a problem in showing you around." Mi Na said.

"We have to take this cart outside," the blonde woman said in a heavy German accent. She had black-rimmed glasses that faded to clear near her rosy cheeks, narrow blue eyes, and a soft, sweet smile. "We can show you to the theater. Right, Mi Na?"

"I guess," Mi Na sighed, "It's on our way."

"Isn't outside right there?" Noah pointed to the windows of the botanical garden's walls.

"Oh, yes, but we go to the other side of the castle." The German woman said.

"Something else Ms. Rae loves," Mi Na said, "Making us run pointless errands."

Noah chuckled softly before he wound up pacing around the room until Mi Na and her friend, a girl named Hanna, were free and offered to walk with him and the bags of mulch to the side of the castle. Because Liam had mostly led him to the back-center of the castle, Noah knew they couldn't be far, yet he soon felt inferior as Mi Na refused to let him lift another bag of mulch onto their loading cart, stating he was "too weak" and forced him aside.

Hanna was a nice woman, Noah had noticed. She had ribbons in her hair and spoke softly in English that wasn't nearly as good as Liam's, yet he could still understand her.

Mi Na pushed the cart and Hanna talked softly about her life in Germany and how her parents were rich landowners and how she had lived with her six siblings for so long she couldn't take it any longer and left the family home—Leuthold was the only place they trusted with their only-daughter.

Mi Na's family was from South Korea Hanna had explained, but moved to the United States when she was four.

("I barely remember the boat," Mi Na had interjected into their conversation. "Barely remember the plane too.")

Mi Na's family were bankers and business owners, rich and powerful, but Mi Na didn't seem interested in her family business as Hanna was, knowing little details and brushing off any questions Noah tried to ask in an attempt to be friendly. He could almost feel his mother pushing him towards her, stating how nice of a friend both of them would be to have in his pocket.

Eventually, they stopped at the bottom of a set of wooden steps that went upward and Mi Na pointed up them.

"The theater is up there. Trust me, you can't miss it." She explained.

"Aren't most theaters on the first floor?" Noah asked.

"Well, yeah, the actual stage is on the first floor too." Mi Na said as she began to push the cart again. "That's the door to the balconies. The only place Ms. Rae actually cares about."

Noah cocked his head as he heard the faint noise of music coming from the hallway beyond the steps. It was solemn and slow, Noah took too many years of music, but it was enchanting.

"It's a music hall as well?" Noah asked.

"It's the best stage in the entire castle," Mi Na explained. "It's also the most renovated part--straight outta the Baroque period." 

Noah stared in the direction of the music a moment longer, thinking how distant it was and how far away the theater itself must be. He frowned at the idea of having to somehow figure out the way around the campus without his translator on his phone and without a roommate that could see the signs.


	5. The Theater

Mi Na was helpful in explaining the rules, more helpful than Liam who told him to refer to his handbook, which was, by itself, less helpful than Liam. 

Noah ended up with Mi Na in the grand library stacking books and holding carts in place for her as she explained:

"You can't do things when most students will be out and about. You can't mop the floor when students will be around--safety hazard or something. You can't really do much of anything. Which means that you won't be getting any sleep tonight."

Noah had sighed at the idea. He was brutally low on energy, his knees felt as though they were rattling. Without his phone, he couldn't help but fret what his mother was doing. By the time night rolled around and those that were punished remained on campus (which was only four of them, including Noah), he was nearly grateful to climb the steps and find a mop and bucket waiting for him. It even looked unhappy to see him, but he guessed that it was better than staring at his darkened ceiling and fretting what his parents were cursing him with.

He had never mopped a floor in his life. He had a maid that came once a week, when he was a child, he had helped her with her cleaning; now he saw that she was only letting him play with her and that he was only making a bigger mess as each time he swept the mop along the ground, it left strange lines and he frowned deeper at each pass.

There was a church bell nearby, Noah realized partway into his mopping of the corridor. He could hear it ring every hour. He was losing even more hope when each hour ticked by and he grew more and more tired until it was so hard to focus on his task he didn't know whether or not he was doing well. He thought he was getting pretty good at mopping the further down the hallway he went, seeing the marble shining in the moonlight and low burn of the lights that were mounted to the ceiling high above him.

Noah turned down a hall and saw nothing but a single set of doors at the end. The hall was short and labeled "Mitte Rechts" in bold letters that spread across the doors, breaking only where the word did. He huffed as he realized that this was the hall Mi Na had meant all along. He had left his blazer in the last corridor, his shirt sticking to his chest and back as he pulled his mop and bucket along towards the doors, he had learned that it was easier not to walk through his own mopping only minutes ago.

He had scrunched the water out of the mop, a disgusting task that made him curl his nose at the sight of the dirtied water that he then was supposed to spread on the floor. He did not place his mop on the ground, however, hearing the stroke of piano keys inside sidetracked him.

Noah checked his watch on his left wrist and saw that it was past two in the morning, the moonlight streaming in through the cross-iron windows on either side of him. He leaned closer to the doors; he was a bit startled as he confirmed that he was hearing music, a slow rhythm of piano notes. He recognized it as the same tune Liam had been humming.

In his curiosity, Noah carefully turned the elegant handle to one of the doors, hearing it open silently, he looked inside to see that he was indeed looking into the balcony of a theater. Red, velvet seats were darkened by the night, a single skylight streamed in the moonlight far above, all that filled the air was the soft tune that was being played.

Noah left his bucket and walked further inside, stopping as he heard a voice begin to sing. It was beautiful and distant, he could hardly make out words but heard the singer stop and swear. 

Noah heard a small clang on the keys before the tune started back up again, solidly playing again and he began to approach the edge of the balcony, keeping low as it seemed that someone was rehearsing but Noah had thought he was the only student left in the entire castle.

He wondered, for a moment, if it could be a teacher. The thought didn't last long as he peered over the railing, between the wooden space and the copper handrail to see the stage far below. It was smeared in the moonlight, pale and blue, it shimmered off of the pianist's brown skin and the black varnish of the piano itself.

A student sat at the bench, carefully tracing out the keys and he looked to be hard at work in his task. The moonlight made his short, curly black hair look blue as he strummed out several chords before he began to sing once more. It was a song Noah recognized, one that he felt he had heard many times before but didn't know all the words to. 

His voice was hardly loud enough for it to be more than the pianist singing to himself, but the theater carried it so smoothly it felt as though Noah was down by the stage. His piano kept with him, seeming to make up for several instruments as he played. Noah watched him for a while longer, seeing how he moved quickly along the keys and paused occasionally to start over again. It nearly felt healing to his body and mind after the last week, specifically the last day. 

Abruptly, the singer and pianist stopped. It wasn't the pianist that messed up, but a loud noise that made Noah jump and he looked back to the opened door and saw that his mop and fallen from its place and landed harshly on the marble. 

Noah looked back in time to see the pianist stand, he held his hand over his eyes to block the moonlight.

"Is someone up there?" He called, his voice was just as clear and nice to Noah's ears as his singing voice; he had an English accent, Noah noticed. But Noah knew that he didn't have a moment longer to admire the tall man on the stage, he had been caught and his heart was hammering in his throat, threatening to choke him.

"Hello? Someone there?" He called again, moving towards the stage steps.

Noah scrambled to get off of the ground, not realizing when his foot had gone numb but he fell on his way towards the door all the same. His heart was hammering harder than when he had broken his father's vase in his office; he felt as though he were being chased out, that his very life was over if he dared stay a moment longer.

"Wait!" The man called again but Noah hardly heard him as he raced by his mop and bucket and down the steps.

Noah ran until his body forced him to stop; he ducked into an adjacent hallway and slumped against the wall, glancing around the turn to see if he had been followed. After seeing that no one had followed him, Noah felt both relieved and silly for running so quickly. 

"Mr. Cooper?"

Noah flinched so hard that he knocked into the statue he hadn't noticed was beside him until he was moving to catch it. He looked through it to see Headmaster Berg staring at him from down the hall. 

"Headmaster," Noah gasped as he held onto the golden statue, he forced it back onto its pedestal, uncertain it would have fallen at all, yet he held it for a moment longer. 

"What are you doing at this late hour?" Headmaster Berg asked.

"I, um," Noah gasped, leaning away from the wall and glancing behind him again when he was certain he heard footsteps but none were behind him. "I was mopping by the theater," He finished. 

"So why are you outside my office?" Headmaster Berg demanded.

"I, um," Noah pointed behind him but stopped, remembering how Liam had said that sneaking into the castle was a punishable offense. Noah was certain that the tall, dark-haired man was not amongst those that were given their tasks by Ms. Rae; a student that had snuck in after hours to play the piano seemed too innocent for Noah to forcibly punish. 

"Did you see something, Mr. Cooper?" Headmaster Berg asked.

"No," Noah finally shook his head. He had to lean over, putting his hands on his knees as he panted for air.

"Then why have you run all the way here?" Headmaster Berg asked.

"Because I, um," Noah scrambled for a lie, "wanted to let you know that I was finished."

Noah couldn't meet Headmaster Berg's eyes, partially from his slouched position, yet mostly because he did not want to. He could never lie, it was something that debilitated him around his parents. His emotions were too raw, too much for anyone to endure. People saw through him the moment they looked at him. He hoped that his clear exhaustion would make up for his inability to lie--make the Headmaster take pity on him. 

"Mr. Cooper," Headmaster Berg said as he approached him, stopping only a few feet from him. "I highly doubt you are done with your given task and I highly doubt you are this exhausted from it."

"I am," as he was not lying, Noah met his eyes, pleading with him to simply let him leave.

Headmaster Berg looked so angry that Noah felt his breath hitch in his throat. 

"I do not tolerate people like you, Mr. Cooper," Headmaster Berg said. "I do not like those that will not do as they are told. I do not like liars."

Noah looked back over his shoulder, feeling as though he needed to check that he wasn't about to be attacked from behind again. He dropped his head again, thinking that he must be hearing his own heartbeat in his ears. Maybe it was even echoing off of the walls. 

"This game you are playing will not work forever, Mr. Cooper. You will exhaust yourself one day." Headmaster Berg continued as he walked by him, "You cannot be a student forever, you cannot leech off others forever, you must leave this school at some point."

Noah flinched at his words, he could almost hear them in his father's voice. His mother's, even. He had been accused of leeching all his life. Memories flooded to his mind of him being a child and how often he was accused of not paying attention, not doing better, not being enough. He already knew he wasn't enough, Noah thought, did anyone else really need to tell him?

"Mr. Cooper, I see that you still have not finished your task." Ms. Rae's voice came over him and he looked for Headmaster Berg but he was already gone.

Noah gestured vaguely, wishing he could argue but he was too out of breath for another word to leave him. He wanted to collapse, even cry as he realized he was in for another scolding. He wished the mop hadn't fallen, given him another moment of peace. 

"Should you be here in an hour—should I catch you out of your place," Ms. Rae said, she was wearing what looked to be her pajamas and cotton robe, seeming to have walked over for the sole purpose to join in scolding him. "You will be given your second penalty!"

Noah nodded weakly, unable to meet her eyes at all. He didn't want to look at her, she felt like a monster looming over him. Soon, she went in the same direction the Headmaster had and Noah stumbled the opposite way, carefully retracing his steps until he found the mop and bucket on the ground outside of the open door.

There was no music, no singing. Noah got too curious after a minute of mopping and looked back inside, seeing that the stage was empty, the piano pushed aside. He wondered, for a moment, if anyone had been there at all.


	6. Clutter

A bizarre and invasive buzzing jolted Noah awake and his eyes screwed shut to the morning light that came in brightly across his window. He had been so tired when he arrived back at the dorms that he had barely put away his uniform before he took his blanket and collapsed onto his plastic-covered mattress.

He had never had such an alarm clock before. For years, the noises of his father being awake were enough to wake him. After that, his phone had had an alarm on it able to wake him much more peacefully than the screaming death-trap that Noah saw on his bedside. It felt nearly personal as Noah scrambled to figure out what to do, thinking that it was certain to wake everyone in the house. 

He had thrown himself back into the wall near his bed at the noise, it was no better than Ms. Rae screeching her head off at him. Thankfully, the moment he grabbed onto it, the noise was only an echo in his ears. He set his alarm clock back down, wondering when it had been put on a timer or if he had done it himself--he doubted he had. 

Across the room, Liam was already gone. Noah had returned to their dorm so late that all the doors were shut and Liam was quietly sleeping. At least he didn't snore, Noah remembered thinking before he had gotten into bed; his mind still playing the tune of the pianist he had seen the night before, trying to block out Headmaster Berg and Ms. Rae scolding him. Music had long-since been an escape for Noah to his parents and their scoldings, it calmed him all the same to repeat the same lines over and over to himself. 

Noah kept putting himself back in the theater mentally, wishing he could have heard more of it, that his mop hadn't fallen. He remembered its tune when he got dressed in another set of his autumn uniform after he went into the bathroom on Liam's side and cleaned himself up, his dark circles were already getting worse. If he were home, he thought, he would have put on a bit of his mother's makeup to hide them.

But he was not home, the empty hallway and sound of boys' voices downstairs told him that much. He froze and tried to go back into his bedroom as he heard loud stomping coming up the steps. It was too late when he heard a boy's voice shout:

"Sinclair!"

Noah looked to see a teenager about his age coming to the top of the steps, it looked as though he had tripped as he had his hands on the landing and was looking around the hall. Their eyes met and Noah felt himself want to cringe at the innocent, brown eyes that looked at him from beneath a shag of blond hair. The other was clearly not fully dressed and didn't seem to care. His eyes were pleading with him and Noah wished he had taken a minute longer to get out of his room, let the rowdy boy do whatever it was he was doing. 

"Oh!" The boy said, "You, um..." He snapped his fingers.

"Noah," he replied quietly. He felt as though he were caught, unable to move and unable to deny whatever request or event this boy was bringing with him. 

"Right, right, Noah," another English accent filled his ears. His voice was higher, spoken through his nose. "Get Sinclair, will you?" He pointed to the other wall.

Noah looked across from his door and saw the door that had been open the day before. He knew that the bed was just on the other side, that the easel was still there. At least, he hoped that they were.

"Sinclair?" Noah pointed to the closed door.

"The lug always sleeps in," the stranger continued loudly, clearly annoyed. "I've woken his majesty ten times by now and he's still not outta bed! Just get him up already!"

With that, the stranger pushed off the landing and Noah heard his heavy footsteps disappear back down and disappear into the quiet roar of voices that clouded the first floor. He was glad he was gone, but not-so-happy with his coming and going. Especially not-so-happy with the task he assigned him. 

Noah looked at the door across the hall; he wished that the other had come to get his friend, the last thing he wanted was another embarrassing moment. Yet, he couldn't walk downstairs without him now. 

He quietly knocked on the door, hoping that it would be easy to wake "his majesty". When there was no response, Noah called out the name he was given in increasing volumes until he heard he felt himself about to full-on yell.

He never liked shouting, he never liked yelling. He didn't like pounding on a stranger's door either. Yet he was supposed to get him. To get Sinclair. Noah cautiously tried the knob and was surprised by how easily the door came open, seeming to pop off of the ledge and swung inward at such speed Noah couldn't catch it.

The cool, autumn morning air hit him and Noah was soon staring at the door's reason: the windows were wide open, having sucked one curtain out of the window entirely, green vines were shining in the light despite the heavy clouds, having blown into the window. The room was covered in a light dusting of dew and the glow of the ever-rising sun, Noah wondered if it had rained after he went to bed, he couldn't remember.

He glanced at the painting that had changed since the last time he had seen it, another patch had been started, greens and blues were slapped on the canvas in such abstract ways Noah thought it was surely ruined. Still, he forced his mind to go back to the task he was given, looking at the bed and seeing a definite lump of a person in it.

He guessed they must have gotten cold, their back was to him and Noah could see dark curls popping out from beneath the blanket and on the pillow. In all his life, Noah hadn't woken anyone before. He couldn't remember a single instance where he had to wake another person. He thought that screeching like his alarm clock would be effective, yet too rude and far too much energy for Noah's anxiety to comprehend.

"Sinclair?" Noah called out before he looked at the trunk that was now shoved haphazardly beneath the bed, a corner jutted outward and showed a wrinkled red scarf coming out of its edge.

When the other didn't respond, Noah looked back around the room for something to help him. His alarm clock had been found in his bedside table, but Sinclair's bedside was a stack of books, a reading lamp, and a mostly-empty glass of water. In fact, Noah thought as he looked around, it was even more cluttered than he had remembered. Books and papers everywhere, bags half-empty, painting utensils shoved into cups of water and left on the desk by the window. His merlot blazer was hung over the desk chair, his beige trousers and underwear still on the floor. Noah thought it was cluttered, but it wasn't dirty, if anything, it was nearly cozy.

Noah moved a bit closer to the bed before he carefully rapped his knuckles on the foot of the frame; Sinclair did not move. Noah approached closer still, called out his name louder; Sinclair did not move. Still approaching, Noah gained the courage to tap his foot through the blanket; Sinclair did not move. Noah forced himself to tap his shoulder before jumping away in freight; Sinclair did not move.

Noah let out a large exhale of frustration. He thought about marching down the steps to tell the stranger to wake Sinclair himself. Then, his anxiety welled inside of him. Could he do that? March up to someone whose name he didn't know and tell them off? No, Noah quickly concluded, he could not.

Almost as if the silence was startling, Sinclair moved on the bed. Noah jumped in his loafers away from the bed. A single hand pressed against the wooden wall; Sinclair had long, thin fingers, a gold ring shined against his dark skin on his right, ring finger. He tapped the wall a few times and Noah stayed silent as he watched him.

"Um, Sinclair?" Noah whispered.

The lump in the bed moved and rolled over; Noah felt his air leave his lungs as Sinclair sat up in his bed, tearing his blanket off of his face. Noah hadn't gotten a good look at the pianist the night before, but Noah was certain those same black curls that that now had tinges of red amongst them and gold amongst his brown skin in the morning sunlight were the same from the night before. Now, however, Noah could see his straight nose and eyebrows, bowed lips and, most strikingly, pale, green eyes. 

"I don't know you," Sinclair said, his accent still English, his voice the same. He sounded a bit confused and tired, but he hardly looked angry. 

Noah stammered, "Well—uh...uh," he chuckled nervously, "I-don't-know-who told me to...um..."

Noah could feel his body tremble with or without his say-so, he tried to flex his hands and keep them from shaking but he trembled just as his voice did. His ears went hot and he knew that the pink in his cheeks gave him away, Liam might not have been able to see it, but it was clear that Sinclair could see by the way he narrowed his eyes at him curiously, looking him over.

"Anyway, good morning!" Noah finally said before racing out of Sinclair's bedroom. He scrambled back to the door, slipping a bit on the carpet before he slammed Sinclair's bedroom door shut.

He made it to the steps before he had a moment. He wasn't a social person, Liam was just wrong. He couldn't take socializing at all. He was never good around people, let alone attractive people. Let alone people he had spied on. He had to hold his chest through his shirt, clutched his shirt and tie tightly in his fingers as he felt his heart racing so hard against his ribcage it felt as though it were threatening to escape.


	7. Outing

Tired and alone, Noah had to figure out the way to and habits of the cafeteria. Liam claimed he had already had breakfast and headed off without him to the castle. Noah could hardly blame him; when he came to the cafeteria it was in utter chaos. He felt that 'a couple hundred' was a vast understatement as he looked at the mass of people in front of him. Most were already at tables, in their uniforms and set pretty in their cliques.

There were dozens of tables filled by half-a-dozen-or-so students, all of them rowdy and talkative. The activity wasn't better in the lines, there were buffets filled with food that Noah was surprised and a bit glad to see he recognized and liked. He supposed that it made sense that it would be even better food than what he had at his private schools. Alas, he could hardly face or disagree with anything the lunch attendees gave him; they seemed to be fellow students, red-ties and all. He had never been good at telling people "no". 

"Noah!" A chipper voice called out to him after he took his tray with a plate of eggs, toast, and bowl of fruit.

He was surprised to see Hanna with her hands folded behind her and that she looked at him happily.

"Hi," he replied weakly. He felt both too awkward and tired to deal with anyone he did know, let alone anyone he didn't. Sinclair had frightened him to the point where he had refused to leave his dorm until the noise downstairs quieted and he was able to sneak out without being caught.

"I see that you found the cafeteria," Hanna said. 

He shook his head, his eyes still on his tray. "I just followed the smell of food."

Hanna took a glass bottle of orange juice from his tray that was precariously perched and gestured for him to follow her. Noah wanted to resist, he thought that he might be able to eat outside, or even away from everyone in some closed-off section of the castle or even back in his dorm.

Hanna weaved through the maze of tables until she walked into what appeared to be once a sunroom or perhaps even a botanical garden like the one Noah had seen the day before. There were fewer tables and people, they were nearer to his age, the tables were round and the cliques were nearly obvious. He realized then what Mi Na meant by claiming there were "kids" around, the room he had left was for those that weren't beyond their high school years. 

Hanna lead him to a table where Mi Na was already sat, she had her blazer already off, her sleeves partially rolled up and half of an apple was between her thumb and forefinger as she spoke to another girl on her left. Hanna sat on the other side of Noah and he was a bit glad that he wasn't beside total strangers despite that he still felt he was the focal point of attention, just to Mi Na's right. 

Seemingly in the middle of her conversation, Mi Na turned her attention to Noah.

"Ms. Rae work the hell out of you?" She asked.

Noah's muscles still ached but he wasn't certain if it was from the mopping or running from the theater. He hoped he wouldn't have to see Ms. Rae or Headmaster Berg. He could still hear their scoldings behind his eardrums.

"Yeah," Noah replied quietly.

The conversation went on without him, as most conversations always did. Noah couldn't count the number of times he just was talked over; he supposed he didn't mind it, it allowed him to slip into complete silence and avoid confrontation or socializing at all. He was so used to it, he hardly knew what to do when Mi Na leaned towards him, putting her free hand on the back of his chair and said:

"This is gonna sound like a really weird question, but," she shrugged, "you didn't happen to go inside the theater, did you?"

Noah paused in putting his half-cut grape into his mouth, the fork hovered before he shook his head and put the grape into his mouth.

"No, no, I mean that seriously," Mi Na continued. "Did you go into the theater or balcony at all?"

Noah shook his head again, looking at his plate of food rather than her. He couldn't lie still, part of him felt his heart racing. Another part of him was desperate for any part of him that could lie. 

"Did you see anyone go in there?" She asked.

A lot of French came over Noah's head in a loud but clear voice, he felt his heart begin to panic and he shoved his hands into his lap as they trembled when he recognized the voice to be Sinclair's. Soon he was at the table, talking very rapidly and very familiarly with Mi Na in French.

"Mate, mate," Sinclair grabbed Noah's chair, turned it a bit and Noah grabbed the table in an attempt to signify his dislike for being forcibly moved but it didn't seem to slow Sinclair down at all. He was startling, Noah thought, his movements were rapid and Noah knew that he couldn't handle people of the sort. 

"I beg it of you, was it you that saw me in the theater?" Sinclair asked.

Noah spared him a glance because his voice was so serious it bordered on desperation. His eyes were still stunningly colored, looking blue-green now in the full-morning light beneath his black brows and curls that fell just a bit onto his forehead, most of his hair was pushed back, styled. He looked more like a jock than an artist, tall and handsome, his voice loud and he was friendly, Noah thought before he thought again that he couldn't handle people like him well. 

Noah shook his head before he looked away. "I wasn't trying to spy or anything."

Dramatically, Sinclair stooped towards the ground as if he had fallen before he caught himself and stood upright again, clasped his hand to his chest and laughed twice. 

"Oh, thank god!" Sinclair exclaimed before he laughed again and put one of his hands on Noah's shoulder. "You have no idea how worried I was."

Noah felt his ears turning hotter and hotter. He remembered all the years of people looking at him strangely, of his male-friends keeping a distance. None would have ever grabbed his shoulder with such familiarity as Sinclair did now. It seemed Sinclair had no idea how it affected him and Noah wished he was a better liar. That he wasn't so touch-deprived that a single, friendly gesture made his heart feel like it was going to stop. That he wasn't so prone to finding men attractive. That he wasn't so socially-awkward that he could handle himself on his own, that he didn't need someone to give him a place to sit, that he didn't need someone to direct him. That he had just asked Sinclair's friend to wake him himself. 

"Mate, I thought you were a professor," Sinclair continued to both speak and touch him familiarly, he patted him roughly before shaking him in a friendly way when he moved slightly behind him. "I thought I was done for!" He laughed. 

"You wouldn't be done for," Mi Na replied bitterly as she inspected her apple. "Unlike the lot of us, the Headmaster actually likes you."

"He does not!" Sinclair defended strongly. He kept his hands on Noah's shoulders and neck, his fingers were long and strong, holding onto him both lightly but Noah felt as though he could feel how strong they were. His ears turned hot, he knew his social anxiety was only making things worse. 

Despite his want to calm down, Noah felt as though his heart was about to stop; he felt he knew that ridicule was soon to come the moment anyone noticed his awkward state as he gripped the table tighter and tighter. Felt the panic of both being touch-deprived and the reasons he was. Felt the panic of the years of teasing; the years of humiliation and confusion. Noah felt there was no other option before he turned and forcibly shoved Sinclair's hand away from him. It was all he could think of to do, it was all he knew how to do. 

Almost immediately, Noah knew he had overreacted. His heart hammered in his ears, several conversations stopped. All their eyes were upon them, he thought. He could feel the eyes upon him. The puzzled look from Sinclair; he already knew the way Mi Na, Hanna, and Liam would treat him different. It was coming, he thought, he had brought this attention fully on himself. 

"I knew it!" Mi Na said; Noah flinched as she put her elbow on the table and pointed at him. "You're gay, aren't you?"

Noah's heart hammered to the point that Noah was certain it stopped altogether. He felt his hands shaking, her dark eyes knew. They all knew. She called him out and Noah knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. Soon, he'd be the laughing stock of Leuthold, he thought. Soon he'd be tossed out of his dorm, soon he'd be in even more trouble with his parents. 

Unable to answer her, he heard several people begin to whisper; Noah quickly stood from the table, left his things and made his way outside through a side door. He knew that his silence prevented him from any fight he might give later. That anything he said didn't matter. That his silence had been its own "yes". He could still feel their eyes after he went further and further across the yard, the population dropping the more he went. The crunch of the fallen leaves were almost a comfort as Noah walked alongside the straight row of trees, further and further from the castle. 

He had to get away, go further, he couldn't let his parents find out he failed. He couldn't let them find out anything about them. He never could.


	8. Defenses

By the time he had stopped walking, Noah knew little about where he was or how far he had gone. There were trees that were bare, their leaves had fallen around him; shades of orange to green, bright reds to vibrant purple and blue flowers clouded the ground. He realized was in some kind of small forest, or perhaps even the beginning of a true forest as the trees only kept going.

From the grassy yard and gardens, he thought he had walked to the edges of Leuthold Preparatory. The Alps lay in one direction, snow-capped and mightily they stared down at him like prison gates.

"Hey, Cooper!" A voice rang out so clearly amongst the trees it was as if they had spoken themselves.

Noah spun in his loafers, realized how labored his breath was and how thirsty he was when he saw Sinclair a few paces behind him in the trees, yet seemingly unaware of Noah. For a moment, Noah considered hiding. He thought that if he could duck into the denser forestry; if he could run behind a tree, but the leaves would give him away when he moved. He knew this game, he knew that he was trapped. Autumn colors be damned, he thought, they had trapped him in the open; he was alone, far from the sights and ears of anyone that might even attempt to help.

"Oh, for the love of—you scared me, Cooper!" Sinclair said and Noah flinched as he realized he was spotted. It was too late to run, too late to hide. Sinclair had all those athletic things in his room and he walked toward Noah without problem, it seemed he used them. Noah thought that he must have run to catch up with him, yet he didn't show any sign of it in his breath or posture as he approached him, which only made Noah aware of his own unhealthy habits.

"Can I just ask you to go away?" Noah managed to ask, unable to look at anything more than Sinclair's feet. He could just make out his red loafers amongst the leaves that had settled beneath his weight.

"I brought you this," Sinclair said.

Noah looked more out of instinct than his own rational mind; he wanted to hit himself for doing so. Sinclair might hurt him, he considered before his eyes fell upon the extended water bottle.

"Nearly run all this way, figured you might need a drink. You didn't touch your juice in the cafe either," Sinclair explained before he shook the bottle.

Noah cautiously took the water bottle, it was closed and he was thirsty. He carefully unscrewed it and heard all the tell-tale signs that it hadn't been tampered with before he took a small sip. He waited for Sinclair's laughter, some kind of taunt to occur, but nothing happened even after he took a few long drinks from the bottle.

"Do you prefer 'Noah' or 'Cooper'?" Sinclair asked as he walked into forestry, sitting down on a metal bench Noah hadn't noticed before. It didn't seem Sinclair minded the leaves, he sat right on them and didn't brush off the one that fell on his shoulder, Noah noted.

"What?" Noah replied, still unable to meet his eyes. He stared either beyond Sinclair and the ground, he couldn't decide which was worse. It only forced him to look between those two points, unable to stare at anything else. 

"Most of us call each other by our family names," Sinclair explained nonchalantly, "But both Mi Na and Spears said that you prefer 'Noah'."

After a moment, Noah nodded before he cautiously replied: "I...do."

"'Noah' it is then!" Sinclair said as if he were announcing something grand. "You can call me 'Hannil' then, or 'Hann' as my mum calls me—actually, do not call me that."

"Your name is Hannil Sinclair?" Noah asked, he suppressed the small chuckle that came to him at the nickname. "That's a bit of a strange name."

"Names are strange anyway," he shrugged, "no reason to them at all. I was named after my grandfather and he is a strange man."

Noah looked at Hannil Sinclair finally, he was laid back with an arm over the back of the bench, his head was tilted all the way back and he was looking upward into the trees. He still had his tie loose, his long legs spread out and straight. Noah looked back down at his own hands and the drink he held before his gaze traveled back to Sinclair and flinched when he was already looking at him. 

"I really, um," Noah cleared his throat, "did not mean to spy on you practicing—it was an accident. I'm really, really sorry."

"What was that loud noise I heard?" Hannil asked.

Noah paused for a long minute again, his mind ran in circles in an attempt to figure out how Hannil would use such information against him. "My mop--it fell over," Noah explained as calmly as he could. He couldn't avoid the question, but he didn't see how the answer would help Sinclair in his teasing. 

"Scared the bloody hell out of me," Hannil snickered softly.

"Sorry," Noah moved a bit in the leaves; he felt the pressure of his own failures compress him. He was certain to break, he couldn't contain the recoil his body had. He couldn't contain how he wished to meld into nothing. The moment Hannil somehow twisted this, Noah thought, he'd break under the pressure. He'd be destroyed.

"I should be the one apologizing to you," Hannil said.

Noah felt his body stop tangling itself at his statement. It was so plain and impressively calm that Noah turned his attention back to him.

Hannil had his head back again, his eyes trained on the trees. Noah thought he must have been watching a bird by the way his head moved.

"I could give you all the excuses in the world: I have three younger siblings; my parents are affectionate; I hardly notice when I touch people in a friendly way." He sighed softly before he tilted his head up, making direct eye-contact with Noah, "Doesn't matter my reasoning, I made you uncomfortable—I mean, Mi Na cut your hands off, but I started it. For that: I'm sorry. I'll be a bit more cautious about touching you."

With suspicion, Noah looked him over. He thought over his words as he stared at him. He looked for each and every way Hannil could taunt him with what response he gave. He looked for some way that Hannil Sinclair could use what he said against him; tell his parents; tell his family. Noah had to restrain himself from shuddering at the idea of his parents finding out his taste for men. He could already hear his mother's upset shouts as she opened another bottle, his father disappointed sighs and the way he curled his fists.

"Not like Mi Na has any straight friends anyway," Hannil continued as he scratched his cheek.

"What?" Noah replied.

"Mi Na refuses to be friends with people that aren't lesbian, gay, bi, trans, ace—all that stuff. She says she deals with enough bullshit from those around her, she doesn't need her friends misunderstanding and mislabeling her sexuality or gender too." Hannil shrugged.

"Mi Na is a lesbian?"

Hannil nodded. "I'm certain she did not mean any malice in calling you out. She probably thought you were out." He paused, "And, again, sorry for the part I played in outing you like that. Clearly, you have not had such friendly reception for it."

Noah felt along his water bottle. His entire life he feared what would happen if someone found out his secret. If people found out what he was, how he was, what he couldn't avoid. He knew that there was no way he could ever pretend to be in a mainstream relationship. No matter how much his parents would yell at him for it. He had considered running away, faking his own death, become a priest, anything to avoid anyone ever finding out. 

His stomach rolled over at the idea of people knowing. Mi Na might be harmless, even her friends. But many people had been there, Hannil Sinclair included. Even if he didn't seem to mind homosexuality and even to support it, it didn't mean everyone that heard did. Noah knew that word traveled fast, that room of hundreds of people would know his secret. The teachers would soon, too—his parents would soon too.

He could nearly hear the phone calls; his mother raging about how putting him in an all-boys dormitory had done this to him. That all he needed was a nice girl to settle down with. That all he needed was to be reminded of "the norm". Hear his father say nothing, his silence somehow louder than his mother shouting. The way his dad would look down at him. The way he would frown, the way he wouldn't speak to or of Noah. "I have no son" was a phrase Noah felt he was likely to hear any moment.

"Ah!" A woman's voice came over them with such a pop from her lips it startled Noah so badly that he dropped his water bottle. He turned to see Ms. Rae standing with her hand above her hip in a black high-waisted skirt and black shirt, a strand of pearls was the only thing besides her blue eyes that stood out.

"Well, Mr. Cooper, Mr. Sinclair," Ms. Rae said bitterly to them, "What are you two doing all the way out here?"

Noah fumbled over his words, he was so flustered from the morning and what it had already brought that him having to see her was brutal upon his ability to compose himself. He couldn't outright tell her the truth, he couldn't lie either.

"We're having a nice chat," Hannil said from behind him; his voice was as clear and nonchalant as it had ever been. Yet it sounded different, Noah noticed, a confidence was within it, it bordered on the braggadocios.

"We live across the hall—practically flatmates," Hannil continued. "I like the yard, like the trees, thought I'd show the newcomer where to sight-see."

"Sight-see closer to the castle, Mr. Sinclair," Ms. Rae said sharply.

Before Noah could speak, Hannil replied: "I'm not the indoor sort. Besides, that's hardly a castle."

Noah felt himself shrivel again when Ms. Rae got a disapproving look on her face.

"It is dangerous for children to be so far from the castle," she said forcefully.

"We're not children," Hannil said in such a way that even Noah knew it was provoking. The tension was only rose as the winds went by them, sweeping up some leaves and Noah wished they'd pick him up too. 

Ms. Rae gripped her hip tighter, her nostrils flaring as she eyed him head-to-toe. Noah didn't want to look at her, but he felt a need to not dismiss her completely, to show her the respect she demanded.

"Mr. Sinclair!"

"Oh, please," Hannil replied; Noah heard him stand, his feet crunched on the leaves as he walked towards them. Noah ducked his head completely when Sinclair walked by him. Despite his want not to look at him, Noah noticed that Hannil was nearly a head taller than him.

"What're you going to do?" Hannil provoked. "You're nothing—no one. You're hardly worth the air coming out of my lungs to argue with. It is a waste! What a crime for my beautiful voice."

Ms. Rae's face contorted with his comments.

"And your face," Hannil laughed in such an offensive way, Noah flinched.

"What an ugly face!" Hannil continued, "A disgrace to my eyes and being! Go away, hag, go away! Begone!"

Noah hadn't realized he had started to hold both his chest and his head as he watched the scene in front of him. To his surprise, Ms. Rae didn't respond immediately, pulled her notepad from her pocket and Hannil continued:

"Your tickets are meaningless!" He said, "Who in their right mind would listen to an ugly, old woman with a booklet and pen? I might as well hand out punishment! This is ridiculous! I don't have to do anything you say."

"Hannil Sinclair!" She barked before beginning to rattle off in German to him in such a way that Noah held his ears, unable and incapable to hear her scold him.

She shoved two tickets into Hannil's chest, a move that surprised him before she began to write one more and Noah flinched when she jutted her hand towards him.

"What?" Noah squeaked out as he took the ticket. 

"You have littered and chosen poorly in friends!" Ms. Rae said before she stormed off back towards the castle, her heels crunched in the leaves.

"She just gave me tickets," Hannil said in disbelief.

Noah stared at the scene for a moment. He had calmed down, he thought, he was just starting to calm. Things were bad, they were bad. He knew they were already so bad! He didn't imagine they could get worse!

"You son of a bitch!" Noah exclaimed at Hannil. Not only did his parents have to find out his secret, but they had to find out he was one punishment away from being expelled? Noah's anxiety quieted against his rage.

"Why the hell did you do that?!" Noah exclaimed.

"I was—"

"You got me in trouble for nothing!" Noah exclaimed, "For just a moment I thought you were a good man and then you show a bit of your true self."

"'True self'? That's hardly fair." 

"What lies beneath the words you just said is nothing good!" Noah huffed. "You're a mean person, Hannil Sinclair! Whether or not you tease me you still sentenced me to yard work and got me my second penalty!"

"So?" 

"So?!" Noah scrambled for words, his rage unable to last as he felt his exhaustion taking over. "You came out here to comfort me but you just made my life so much worse! Stay away from me!" 

Hannil looked so surprised he didn't (or couldn't) respond to Noah. Yet again, he had overreacted, Noah thought. But his parents, his family, they would be so ashamed. They would hate him. Come tomorrow, he thought when he brushed by Hannil Sinclair and headed towards the Castle, they'd hate him. They'd all hate him.


	9. The Bottle

By the time he reached the castle, Noah was exhausted again. It was easy from the north-side of the castle to spot the botanical gardens and for him to fumble inside. He didn't speak to anyone that looked at him even for a moment as he went out into the hallway and towards the foyer, his eyes easily found Mi Na and Hanna as they stood at the top of them, they talked with two other girls.

There were a lot of students in the foyer that went every-which-way and Noah wanted to avoid them all. He went back the way he came, ducked into a different and emptier hallway and settled down. His head and heart were hammering with such violence he wanted nothing more than to lie down on the first bench he found and sleep. Maybe he could get back to his dorm, he thought before the thought slowly died at the idea of getting his third penalty from Ms. Rae if she caught him.

Before Noah could think further, the sound of bells began to ring over his head. Noah looked at the ceiling and around, he saw the students go by him in their yellow ties and into different classrooms, the hum of them all slowly vanished as the bells sounded. He tried to think if he had heard them the day before, he could hardly remember it had all gone by so quickly. 

"When classes change is a good time to get lost."

Mi Na's voice startled Noah from down the hall. He had thought she hadn't seen him watch her. Mi Na had her arms over her chest, she rocked a bit in her loafers as she looked beyond him to the window before she moved down the hall and sat on the bench across from him.

"Should we get to class then?" Noah asked.

"We don't have class," Mi Na reminded him.

Noah gave a long and tired sigh before he dropped his elbows on his knees and held his face in his hands.

"Long first two days?" Mi Na asked.

Noah nodded.

There was a long pause and Noah could hear that Mi Na was making some kind of noise, it got to the point that he looked up and saw her nervously picking at her teeth, her eyes turned away, fixated on the bust that was partially illuminated by the sun. Even Noah knew that her posture held something that she wanted to say, that thoughts ran ramped in her mind. 

"What?" Noah asked.

Mi Na dropped her hand and resumed her normal posture, Noah thought for a moment that he had surprised her.

"Just, uh, you know," Mi Na rolled her hand, before she sighed heavily and dropped her head. "Sorry," she said, her voice more forceful than it needed to be.

"Sorry?" Noah asked.

"For what happened at breakfast."

"Oh."

"Hannil ever catch up with you?" Mi Na asked.

Noah wished that she hadn't asked, he felt his shoulders slump before he could catch them. He could feel the ticket that had fallen beside him without touching it, he didn't want to look at it.

"I might have, um," Noah wiped his palms that had suddenly become sweaty on his thighs as he looked away from her.

"What?" Mi Na asked.

"Well, it was his fault!" Noah defended.

"What?" Her tone was different this time, she looked puzzled and Noah wished he could walk away from people. He wished he could his entire life, he never felt he had the strength to tell people to go away when he needed them to do just that. 

Noah nervously moved in his seat, his stammering started when he tried to think of a way to explain what had happened. He didn't know where to begin or really what even happened, he remembered his anger and his rage, the surprised look on Hannil's face.

"I might have yelled at him." Noah finally squeaked out a coherent sentence.

To his surprise, Mi Na burst into laughter. It was to the point that her proper-posture broke and she held her stomach as she doubled-over, she clapped one hand to her mouth before she began to laugh again.

After a minute, she composed herself, her smile still on her lips, tears in her eyes.

"You gotta tell me what you said," she said.

Noah's ears burned at the memory. "Ms. Rae she...well," he stammered again.

"Okay," Mi Na said, "I get it, Ms. Rae yelled at you and got mad at you and you got your second penalty—but what did you yell at Hannil Sinclair?"

He shifted nervously in his seat, a bit glad that Mi Na had pieced together the basic story from his stammerings. 

"I yelled at him for getting me sentenced to yard work." He said. 

"But what did you say?"

"What does it matter?!" Noah pleaded.

"Because you're probably the first person ever to straight-up yell at Hannil Sinclair." Mi Na said before she clearly tried to hold back her laughter, yet it still bubbled up into a snickering fit.

He stared at her for a long while.

"I, um," he started again when she clearly wasn't going to move past the subject. "I told him to stay away from me."

Mi Na nodded.

"That he was mean."

She seemed to want to hold back her laughter.

"I might have called him a 'son of a bitch'." Noah quietly spoke, unable to shake the memory that he said it.

Mi Na began to clap and laugh at the same time, she seemed to enjoy the memory despite how Noah dropped back into his hands and held his face as he thought back over the memory. He felt his hands already shaking, Hannil lived across the hall from him, Hannil had shouted at Ms. Rae, Hannil was so close to him and painted to beautifully and Noah had yelled at him. Let his anxieties out in fumes of anger.

"That is the greatest news of my life!" Mi Na said.

"Why?" Noah asked.

"'Cause it's fucking hysterical, that's why."

"But—why? He is clearly a good person! No one's yelled at him before!"

"People yell at good people all the time," Mi Na replied, "That's part of what makes them so good. People don't yell at Hannil Sinclair because he's Hannil Sinclair."

Noah paused for a moment or two. "I don't know what you're getting at."

Mi Na arched a brow before she tilted her head to one side. "I guess you wouldn't, would you?"

Noah shook his head.

"His family is really, really important to the entire world. Pretty famous too."

Noah stared at her for a long moment. "He is?" 

"He's like...modern-royalty," Mi Na shrugged, "No one yells at the royals."

"Wait, wait, wait," Noah chuckled nervously as he leaned back, "Why is that so funny? I mean, I get that he's rich and important, but aren't you?" 

Mi Na shook her head, "Not as rich and important as Hannil Sinclair! He thinks this place is small! He grew up in a castle! I'm talking like thirty-six rooms are all his or some shit." 

"What the hell is he doing here?" Noah asked. 

"Ask him that yourself." She replied. 

"I'm not going to do that," He shook his head.

His panic had settled in more and more the more he realized how serious she was. That she wasn't laughing that he believed her. That she wasn't going to flip on her statement. Noah knew his mother social-climbing ways, that having Hannil across the hall would enthrall his mother. Noah knew that his mother probably knew who he was and would be mortified by the way Noah had yelled at someone so important. 

"As I said," Mi Na continued, "He's not, like, going to be King of England or something, so," she shrugged once more instead of speaking as if to say that Noah should let it go. 

Noah began to chuckle nervously again, his palms sweaty and his heart hammered. He cursed his own anger, his own anxiety. He was set to a school where there was "modern-royalty" across the hall from him? Where there was a hawk-like woman storming around ready to throw him out at any moment? Where surely half of the school by now knew of his sexuality that he had kept secret all his life? Noah felt as though he were soon to faint.

"I need to call my parents," Noah began to pat down his pockets. He might as well be the one to tell his mother before the Sinclair Family somehow squashes his family home. Noah heaved a heavy sigh after he found his pockets empty, he slumped once again, frustration bubbled to his surface.

"What's wrong?" Mi Na asked.

"Ms. Rae," Noah said, "She has my phone." He rubbed his face again, "My parents are going to kill me. I'm so dead!"

"She took your phone?" She asked, confused was heavy in her voice. 

"You can't have a phone here," Noah said before he looked squarely at Mi Na.

"The Headmaster took mine," she quickly explained.

Noah took in a deep breath. "Do you think that I can sneak back to my dorm?" 

Mi Na shrugged, "Why not?" 

Noah quietly nodded and pushed himself off of the bench. Despite how tired he was, the idea of a nap was far more intriguing than the idea of the castle where he might run into Hannil Sinclair or Ms. Rae. 

"Not against the rules?" Noah asked. 

"Uh, not really," Mi Na replied, she seemed curious but Noah felt if he explained any more, she would only laugh again. 

Noah waved lazily at her before he left through the halls and went into the courtyard. He had only arrived the day before, yet it felt like a week. As he walked back to his dorm, he wished he had gone to boarding school all his life. Things were bad, but at least no one was there to yell at him in his room. 

Noah took off his loafers and set them near his dresser before he took off his blazer and belt, carefully hung each before he turned to his bed. On his bed was a square bottle of amber liquid that had German writing on it and the image of a small town in black and white ink. Noah knew alcohol when he saw it, but he had never touched a bottle before. It was heavier than he expected and he was even more surprised to find a small note tucked beneath the bottle that had several lines scratched vigorously out before one that read: 

You're right. I'm sorry. 

It was such beautiful, neat cursive-handwriting that Noah might have known where it came from even if the context had been lost to him. He peered back at his door, knowing that if he opened it he could see Hannil Sinclair's door. Noah set the bottle down next to his bed and tucked the piece of paper underneath his handbook on his desk. He wished he was tired, but the guilt of yelling at Hannil weighed so heavily that Noah only sighed heavily after he finally made his bed and sat atop of it and looked at the half-open window that showed the sunny, autumn day it had become. 

Noah closed his eyes, a single thought came to him: I'm an idiot.


	10. The Woodlands

Noah's alarm wasn't any less abrupt the next morning, it still jolted him awake. He sat upright in his bed and shivered at the cold wind that came in through the window left open to the cold, Austrian air.

"The noise," Liam groaned from the other side of the room. It was so dark that Noah could hardly see him move to rub his eyes.

In agreement, Noah nodded and reached back to tap his alarm clock.

After his nap, Mi Na explained to him that all yard work started earlier than most students (or people) wanted to be awake. The sun wasn't up yet, the mist rolled in. Noah clung to his bedsheets in want to stay in his warm bed; all that stopped his shivering was the sound across the hall of someone already up and about in their bedroom.

Noah had been somewhat lucky to avoid Hannil Sinclair the rest of the day. Mi Na said that he truly did enjoy being outside and avoided being inside the castle unless it was absolutely necessary—which, to Hannil, it never was.

He could hear Hannil's footsteps that sounded as though he were pacing back and forth in his room. When the dorm was the quiet, Noah realized, he could actually hear a great deal of things he hadn't before.

Liam did snore. Only a little, it wasn't enough for Noah to truly notice unless the building was that still. There were crickets that sang outside his window, the chirping of birds wasn't to be heard yet. But, most importantly to Noah, he could hear the stillness of everything.

In his life, there were few times he was left all alone when he wanted to be. Where he could truly feel comfortable for just a moment or two, hear nothing, see nothing. The darkened dorm room was far different than his darkened bedroom. But no one fought, no one made a noise, it was as if Noah had the entire world to himself.

As they always did, the moments did not last as Noah heard Hannil's door open and close, a few clumsy footsteps and soft swearing before louder steps disappeared down the stairway.

He thought the night before that he was lucky not to see Hannil again. He had not considered that he was now stuck with Hannil for hours. He hoped, as he opened his door and peered into the hall, that Hannil would be stationed very far away from him.

Noah felt as though his wishful thinking was a waste as when he was instructed by Ms. Rae to an elderly man who pointed him to a shed that the moment he opened the door he saw Hannil Sinclair already with gloves on, his eyes fixated on an assortment of tools.

Out of instinct and want to avoid the awkward conversation that was forced to follow, Noah slammed the shed door shut and took a small step back into the dew-pressed grass and let the morning mist fill in the gap between him and the shed.

"Did you just see me and slam the door?" Hannil's voice came through the door. His voice was incredulous, as if he were soon to laugh but also serious in his question. 

Somewhere in his life, Noah had stopped chewing his nails in situations such as this. But now he wished he had a better habit than to stand awkwardly outside of the door with his teeth nervously chattering.

After a moment of complete silence, Noah opened the door again. He knew that he couldn't get around the shed. The groundskeeper said that his gloves and all the tools he needed would be in there. He just wished the man he had yelled at wasn't.

Hannil looked at the door when it opened this time.

"I, um," Noah stammered before he tried to walk inside, he fumbled over the foundation step and caught himself on the edge of a splinter-filled workbench. He stammered a few more times as he looked at Hannil's chest, his mind trying to think of an excuse for why he avoided him. He couldn't look him in the eye, and Noah felt it weakened his every stammer. 

"I—I, you see," Noah attempted to speak as if he knew how, "I don't...I don't like spiders."

"Spiders?" Hannil replied.

Noah nodded, he felt as though his entire body cringed at his words. He reasoned that if he said anything else that it would mess up the situation more. It wasn't an entire lie, but Noah doubted it was truly credible to someone like Hannil that Noah would panic that badly over a spide. 

With his anxiety rising, Noah's thoughts began to flood him. How was he supposed to apologize? Even if Hannil had, that didn't mean he had let it go. Noah still feared them being alone together but that seemed they were all they were destined to be. For a moment, Noah thought he might drown in them. 

Noah tried not to jump but his body flinched when Hannil touched his shoulder. It made sense, Noah tried to tell himself, the shed was small and Hannil had to touch him just to move by him. It was only polite, he told himself. 

He turned back around when Hannil turned on a flashlight and inspected at the roof and seams above the door.

"I thought I saw one," Noah said when he realized what Hannil was doing.

"You squeak like a child," Hannil said before he pointed the flashlight directly into Noah's face, "Do you know that, mate?"

Noah had to hold his hand up to the light. He could feel his hand start to tremble as he wondered if this was where he was teased. When the light suddenly cut off and Noah saw little but pink splotches amongst the dark, he wished he had left the door open. If he had a way out, he could avoid whatever way Hannil planned to bully him with. 

"Don't worry, mate, I won't tell the whole dorm," Hannil said with a laugh.

"I did not squeak." Noah defended weakly.

"You did. Or maybe 'yelp' is a better word for it," Hannil snickered before he moved towards him and plucked something off of the wall.

Noah was surprised when he offered him a set of white gloves that felt more like leather baseball gloves than anything else. 

"Don't want to hurt your little, squeaky hands," Hannil said.

"Hey!" Noah snapped but Hannil only snickered as he took the flashlight and pushed through the door.

"Get a cloak too, mate! Colder than Hell out here!" Hannil called back to him.

Noah paused when he realized that he recognized this interaction. It wasn't the kind he and his friends had, but it was the kind he had always seen from afar. The kind he always saw people being friendly with each other and wished to be apart of them. The kind he thought he'd never have pointed at him. A friendly kind of teasing, a freindly kind of being. Mi Na was friends with Hannil, Noah reasoned, Mi Na and Hannil didn't seem to mean him any harm--not really. 

Noah easily found what the cloaks were: large, heavy wool-like grey pieces of cloth that he dragged outside of the shed and found Hannil a few feet away. Hannil had the flashlight between his teeth as he fixated his gloves, what Noah guessed to be a rake was tucked against his shoulder.

Hannil practically spat out his flashlight, caught it in his other hand before he extended the same hand to Noah. Noah handed him one of the grey pieces of cloth and watched Hannil turn it around before he slung it around his shoulders and tied string Noah hadn't seen before.

Noah carefully imitated his movements. It was heavy on his back and hung down near his ankles, the hood crumpled nicely, Noah thought, it protected his nape and ears from the wind a little.

"That's too tight, squeaker," Hannil grabbed onto the hood and pulled it lightly, it caused the string to dig into Noah's throat and Noah felt a panic that he was going to get choked then and there. As soon as the panic came, it vanished when Hannil let go.

"It's not supposed to choke you," he chuckled.

"I've never worn one before," Noah said as he looked at the strings. He felt himself jolt back to reality, his mind seemed to catch up with what Hannil had said. 

"Don't call me 'squeaker'!" Noah exclaimed.

Hannil began to laugh again, he doubled over and had to push his bangs back, his curls tucked nicely together. Noah's shoulders dropped as he realized that the nickname wasn't going anywhere any time soon. That laugh alone told him enough. 

"You do squeak a lot, I hope you realize," Hannil said.

"I do not!"

Hannil wobbled his hand back and forth, "I've known you for two days and both times you've seen me, you've squeaked. And repeatedly after that."

"You scared me both times!" Noah defended.

"Did I sneak up on you?"

"Yes!"

"I was in the shed first!"

Noah huffed as he realized that it was only a game to Hannil, he had a gleam in his green eyes that were somehow still bright in the before-dawn light. A smirk was on his lips, a breathy snicker held in each word he spoke. Noah wanted to be annoyed by it, but he chuckled before he sighed heavily.

"I just," Noah said after he went back to trying to untie his strings. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. You seem like a nice guy. I've just had a hard few months."

"I'm a nice guy?"

Noah nodded before he shrugged softly.

Hannil leaned forward and took hold of one of Noah's strings. "Whatever you say, squeaker." He winked and pulled the string. Noah didn't have time to react, he scrambled to pick up his cloak, he heard Hannil laugh again.

"Stop teasing me!" Noah huffed when he gathered it again and pulled it back over his shoulders. "I'm not used to it!"

"What? Your siblings never tease you?"

Noah paused, "I don't have any."

"Ah, so that's why you're so weird. Only children are always weird. But that's alright, mate, being weird is a requirement I have for all my friends. Plus, it's good weird people exist."

"Are you being nice or mean?" Noah asked, exasperated.

Hannil leaned onto his rake for a moment. "It's a grey area."

Noah huffed once more before he began to try to tie the strings again. He paused when Hannil walked towards him and tugged the cloak tighter around his back. He took the strings out of Noah's fingers and adjusted the cloak around him. Afraid and a bit stunned, Noah hardly moved.

"I think I said this yesterday," Hannil's voice was soft but it lost none of its depth and clarity the closer he was. "But I have three younger siblings," Hannil spoke as he carefully tied the knot on Noah's cloak, "I have about twenty-seven cousins once or twice removed, and a natural instinct for playing tricks on people. My grandmother says I've somehow managed to be more mischievous than my father." He leaned a bit down towards Noah and playfully whispered: "Makes me a good actor."

"Actor?" Noah asked.

Hannil dusted off Noah's shoulder before he adjusted the cloak once again. 

"I want to be an actor," Hannil said as he walked back to his rake and picked it up. "A stage actor, not a movie actor. I'd love to spend every night out on a stage, every day inside a theater. Every single moment memorizing a line for a new play—maybe I'll perform one of my sister's one day." Hannil turned back to him and pointed the rake at him, "But trust me, Noah Cooper who prefers being called 'Noah' and who squeaks when startled the slightest bit, I am the meanest person you'll ever meet, but I mean you no harm."

Noah stared at him for a long moment, puzzled by the way he spoke. Soon enough, Hannil dropped the end of his rake into the grass.

"You don't read much, do you?" Hannil asked.

"Not really," Noah shook his head.

"Oh, good, I get to sound like a brilliant and deep man, then!" Hannil said before he turned and started along the yard. "Come, little squeaker, there's a lot of work to be done."

"Don't call me 'squeaker'!" Noah replied as he went to the side of the shed and grabbed a similar rake to the one Hannil had been holding. Noah knew even less about what went into "yard work" than how to tie a cloak. Though it felt much better after Hannil had tied it, it was warm and the hood fit even better around his neck and ears despite it not being up.

A cold wind began to whip leaves through the yard, Noah could hear Hannil's soft singing behind him as he continued up the yard, yet there was something on the wind that made Noah turn in the direction it came. He wouldn't think it even to himself, but he could have sworn they were whispers that wrapped around him and sent a shiver through his body.

The wind led back to the woods, where the forest got darker than what was already around him. The leaves didn't move from the forest, only in the yard, not even the branches swayed in it. Yet, Noah was entranced by what he saw in the woods, something amongst the trunks that moved unlike any animal or person he had ever seen, a singular dark shape that was hardly more than that weaved amongst the trunks, as if it were a rabid dog, pacing in the confines of its cage.


	11. The Recordings

Yard work was a penalty that lasted. Over the next week, Noah fell into the routine of waking before Liam, turning off his alarm, getting dressed, and heading to the shed. By the third day, Hannil had started to wait for him at the top of the steps and they had started a conversation that would last them the entire morning by the time they reached the front door of the dorm.

Noah hadn't had someone like that before, he realized. Someone that waited for him, that went out of his way to talk to him. In reality, Noah thought in quiet moments, he had never had a friend like Hannil Sinclair. All of the friends were deemed by his parents, or by the circumstances of simply having the same classes. Yet, most of his friends were laidback, quiet, reserved; they didn't rail against the system the way Hannil did, they didn't have stories or even talk the way he did. They minded Noah's silence, they minded his reservations, they minded his everything, but Hannil seemed to go right along, the only thing Noah minded was his acquired nickname. 

In that week, Noah felt as though he had learned a lot about Hannil Sinclair. He smoked hand-rolled cigarettes that smelled sweeter than Noah ever imagined and were nowhere near as disgusting as Noah imagined them to be. He was a fast runner, he often left to get them breakfast and returned within fifteen minutes during their early morning punishment. He truly and wholeheartedly enjoyed singing and did not seem to be aware when he started and stopped. He whistled and mimicked bird calls to the point that he could get a bird to come out of the forest. What Noah considered to be of the most interest was that he knew anything and everything there was to know about plants and how to maintain a garden.

("It's not really a hobby of mine," Hannil had answered him after Noah worked up the courage to ask. "My grandmother has a massive garden. As a kid, I grew up hopping on a train and going to Nan's to play and work with her in the garden. I do enjoy gardening and plants--I often think of things as being very fragile, yet every time I stepped on a plant, accidentally over-watered, accidentally set them on fire, they came back. I like to think that motivates me to keep coming back after the harshest of trials and treatments the world hands out to me.")

"You are very social for an ugly person," Liam said after Noah had explained the topic Hannil and he had talked about all morning: The Existence of Trees, as Hannil had put it. Hannil wasn't just well-read in the sense of books of fiction and art, but he had dozens of books of theology and philosophy. Noah couldn't shake the look of them when Hannil stacked several of them up and said: "If I don't read all of these, I'll never be able to be a good man."

"Thank you," Noah replied bitterly to Liam.

"You're not that funny either," Liam continued. "I suppose you must not be all that ugly."

"I'm not really ugly, Liam!" Noah groaned.

"You said you are unsociable."

"I am!"

"Yet you have made several friends."

Noah dropped his shoulders. "I have spent most of my life avoiding people. I don't go out of my way to find friends."

"Why not?"

Noah paused for a long while. He didn't want to answer with what came to mind. He didn't enjoy what he knew the answer to be. The reasons why he never liked being close to people. Why his quiet was more comforting, why his solitude was better.

"Mr. Cooper," Headmaster Berg's voice bordered on welcome to Noah's ears.

"Yes?" Noah squeaked out as he turned towards him, he saw that he and Liam had wandered towards the Headmaster's office. Noah had planned to go back outside, to see if he could join Hannil in the garden. It was so warm out that Noah didn't want to miss what games Hannil was certain to play on unsuspecting people.

"Might I have a moment?" Headmaster Berg gestured back toward his office.

Noah hesitated but quietly bid Liam farewell before he followed the instructions of the Headmaster. It was still welcome, Noah thought, it escaped Liam's question. 

Headmaster Berg's office was big, broad, and had many bookshelves and windows that had more darkness than light streaming in. The walls were wooden and paneled, Noah wanted to touch the ornate designs of the door that lead away from his office to a darkened room but didn't dare. He only watched the Headmaster fiddle with his hands before he sat down behind his large desk in his solid chair.

"Have I done something wrong?" Noah asked after a moment.

"No," Headmaster Berg said.

Noah felt a bit of his panic unwind. He had attempted to follow rules he could neither read nor understand when spoken to him. He kept his head down as much as he could, did what he was told, he had thought he hadn't done anything too wrong. Yet, it only left him more anxious as to why he was there.

"I am curious to how you are fairing here," Headmaster Berg said.

Without meaning to, Noah thought back to the lurking figure he had seen in the woods his first morning with Hannil. It had haunted him; he hadn't seen it again, but he felt as though it were very near. Noah hadn't said anything about it though, not to Liam or Hannil, Mi Na or Hanna, he had kept it to himself; convinced himself that he was just tired, that his eyes had played tricks on him.

"Fine," Noah answered after he shoved the thought aside.

"Last time I saw you," Headmaster Berg checked his watch as he spoke, "You were running from something."

Noah shook his head. "It was nothing."

Headmaster Berg stared at him for so long that Noah added: "sir" quietly.

"And you've had two punishments since your arrival," Headmaster Berg continued.

"I was adjusting, sir," Noah replied as he held his hands behind his back, he gripped his wrist nervously.

"Most recently," Headmaster Berg looked at a slip of paper on his desk, "You've been given yard work with Mr. Sinclair."

"Yes, sir."

"I have brought you here for two reasons," Headmaster Berg said as he slid the same slip of paper away from him. "Firstly to inform you of Hannil's importance to this entire school. How he must not be distracted from his goal."

"Sir?" Noah asked when he paused.

"I served beneath Hannil's grandfather for over a decade, fought alongside and underneath his father." He paused for a long moment, his jaw twisted before he continued: "I must say that Hannil has a bit too much of his father in him for his own good. I implore you not to feed into it."

Noah cocked his head at the statement.

"Secondly," Headmaster Berg paused as he opened a drawer and brought out a tape recorder and headphones. "As it would be against school rules to return your phone," he explained, "I have had voicemails from your family transferred onto tape for you to hear."

"Aren't there designated call times?" Noah asked.

"You must spend three months without penalty before you may use the telephone."

Noah took in a deep breath. He had almost forgotten all about his phone, his parents. He didn't want the tape recorder that was offered to him but he took it before he retreated back away from the Headmaster. Despite that the interjection was welcome, Noah knew that he could be punished on the turn of a dime. 

"Goodbye, Mr. Cooper," Headmaster Berg said so bitterly that Noah paused at him before he quickly left.

When the students were in classrooms or outside, Noah often felt as though he were the only person in the entire castle. Able to roam freely.

Noah had wanted to go straight to Hannil despite the Headmaster's words, he wanted to ignore him and go about his original plan that hadn't sounded so good until he realized he wasn't able to rebel so outwardly.

Instead, he found a bench to sit on near the theater and looked at the tape recorder for some time. He had neither seen a tape recorder nor held one, only recognized it because of movies and television shows. It was off-black and he was just able to hold it in one hand. It had a thick, two-part cord to metal-wired headphones that were uncomfortable on his ears. Still, it was easy enough for him to identify the play button.

He could hear and see the tapes start to move, the little split in the cover showed the wheel turning the black film. Noah felt a wedge of anxiety and a mix of comfort and discomfort as his mother's voice began to speak.

"I hope you land safely. Call me when you do. Please do not forget."

Noah swallowed thickly but he didn't have time to recover before another message played.

"I cannot believe you have not called me yet! Do you have any idea how many hours it's been?! Call me--immediately!"

Noah took in another shaky breath, but the recorder continued:

"My little one, I am so, so sorry. I cannot believe how angry I was in my message. Please, please, please be safe. We're not the type, but I'll pray for your safety."

It wasn't strange, Noah thought as he stopped the recorder. His mother went through phases when she was drunk. The first she seemed normal, the second was her anger and frustration, the third was her depression. He took off his headphones, unable to hear another one of her messages. He knew what would follow, he had too many memories of her being drunk. He thought he was lucky one wasn't the silence of his father, one that bored into his very soul.

He set the recorder down beside him before he held his face in his hands. He didn't want to think of his mother. He had been happy, he realized now that the feeling was gone. He had been all right. He was glad the theater was always so quiet, if anyone was inside, the doors were kept shut. He could take some solace in the silence of the world.

The silence ended when he heard a girl's voice down the corridor, it was faint at first but Noah recognized it after a moment.

"Aidez!" The girl's voice cried out so softly that Noah got up from his bench and went toward it. He didn't need to know French to understand a call for help. Her desperation was evident just by how she didn't scream violently. It drew him toward it. 

Noah found a door to a girl's bathroom. He stood outside it, a bit frightened as he heard her voice call out in raspy, desperate tones. "Aidez...Aidez-moi!" It sounded as though she had called for hours. As if she were soon to perish from whatever was ailing her. 

Out of anxiety, desperation, and an uncertainty what to do, Noah slowly opened the door to the bathroom.

He could see straight ahead into the wooden floor and tiled walls, the mirrors along his left, the stalls along his right.

"Bonjour?" Noah called out softly as he held the door, unable to take a step inside.

The voice came again, she called for help again, louder and as if she pleaded with him to enter. Noah glanced back out into the corridor before he went inside, he pulled at his mind for what French he knew. He thought that he should get Mi Na or Hanna, they could help and be inside the bathroom without worry.

Two steps in, Noah felt his thoughts leave him as he spotted the girl on the floor. She was on her side, her body limp and shivered on the cold floor. She had long, dark brown hair and her blazer was cream, her skirt burgundy. Noah felt a lump grow in his throat as he realized that her hair wasn't braided, that it pooled in the blood that stained her arm when she tried to move.

She gasped for air, her breath sounded more like a whistle as she began to pull herself along the wooden floor. Panicked for her, Noah reached down and grabbed her shoulder.

"Non, non!" He told her but she answered him the same, tearfully and painfully. So much that Noah let go and she fell back to the floor. She began what Noah guessed to be a crawl, an attempt to flee despite that he meant her no harm. 

"Ami--je suis une ami!" Noah stripped some French from his brain when she continued to mutter in it, he crouched down, uncertain what to do or how to help. 

She stopped then, her body partially turned around, a streak of blood on the floor where she had dragged herself toward the wall. His heart hammered so hard that he wasn't certain if she had stopped speaking or not. All of a sudden, she reached out for him faster than what he imagined she would. Her grip on his blazer tight and pulled him. He had to put his hand down and Noah heard the guttural noise his body made when his palm landed in her cold blood.

Noah looked back at her after his hand, he tried not to be disgusted by the contact. He had never been a fan of scary movies, anything frightening, he had never liked blood but he didn't think that seeing it would make his stomach churn the way it did. His eyes followed along her body until it reached her face.

In the bathroom, Noah could hear his voice echo as he began to stammer when he looked at her. He had expected a girl like the ones he saw in the hallways, he had expected things he could not explain or comprehend, nearly anything else. Her hair stuck to her face, her pale skin looked even paler against the blood that had dried to it. For her eyes, there was nothing; empty sockets that showed Noah flesh and bone, tears of tissue that strung out onto her cheeks.

"Aidez-moi," she said again, her bloody teeth showed. Her voice was deeper than it had been before, animalistic and frightened him more than he knew what to do with. 

All at once, Noah felt a shock to his system and heard the squeak that Hannil teased him for echo off of the walls when he jumped away from the girl and shoved her to the ground. She repeated her statement as she grabbed onto the wall and began to pull herself upright. Her nails were outgrown, yellowed and dirty as she reached out for him again.


	12. The Infirmary

Noah's back hit the stall, his hand was too slick to grab the floor; her blood neither seemed real nor believable as she cocked her head in such an unnatural way that it made Noah's skin crawl. His breath came out in short, choppy pants in failed attempts to ground himself back into reality. 

With a raspy growl, she sprung towards him. Noah felt that whatever instinct he had to flee such a situation finally kick in when she lunged at him. He scrambled toward the sink. Her fingers scraped down his arm and he shouted at the contact.

His heart hammered when he got to the sink, pulled himself upright and bolted toward the door. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that this wasn't right, that she wasn't real. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that it wasn't good for him. Somewhere in his mind, he cursed himself for not simply going outside. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that he could not outrun anyone.

Sure enough, Noah felt hands on his back and he was on the ground in an instant after he reentered the corridor; his air flew out of his lungs as if he spat it out. The floor was unforgiving and cold against his body as he tried to breathe, as he tried to think. Her hands were unforgiving and cold as she turned him over, pulled him upright and he gasped for air in the same whistle-like way she breathed, desperate for one last gasp.

She reached up her claw-like hand, it hovered over him, his eyes flashed between it and her bloody teeth and lips that had pulled into a smile. Noah grabbed her arm, he felt weaker and smaller than he ever had when he tried to hold her back, feeling the scaliness of her skin and the way it warped in his grasp.

Her eyes sockets went wide, a string of tissue swayed when she rocked back before she disappeared into nothing but a dark mist that soared down the hallway and Noah heard the bathroom door slam shut once more.

With her gone, Noah felt his breath quickly return in coughs and pants as he laid back and stared at the wooden ceiling above him. Plumes of fog left his lips and he felt his body shiver at the cold the surrounded him. It lasted until he felt a hand that felt as hot as a stove grab his arm.

The scream that left him was hardly contained but Hannil seemed more than understanding and as frightened as he. He kept ahold of Noah and hoisted him to his feet before his green eyes, wide and frightened, looked at the bathroom door.

"You saw it, right?" Hannil asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

"Saw it?!" Noah replied back in the same hushed tone, panic was heavier in his voice. "It grabbed me!" He whimpered. 

Hannil grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him down the hall in one of his sprints. Noah had thought before he would never be able to keep up with him, but his feet landed him just a bit out-of-breath behind Hannil when he finally let go and pushed his back against the door he had opened.

"You saw," Hannil said again.

"The girl," Noah nodded.

"No eyes?"

"No eyes." Noah shook his head.

"Oh, God," Hannil looked paler than he ever had when he leaned his head back against the seam of the door. Noah hadn't seen him so out of breath before, but it was a small comfort that Hannil had seen whatever it was that grabbed him.

After a moment, Noah looked at his hands, he saw no blood on his left that had touched hers, but it still felt wet, damp by the blood it had landed in.

"Mate, you face," Hannil touched his shoulder before his hair, and turned his head a bit.

Noah felt his ears turn hot, no one touched him and soon it seemed Hannil realized how uncomfortable he was and let go with a small apology between his gasps.

"Scratches," Hannil said to him before he put three of his fingers to the side of his neck and mockingly scratched down his neck toward his adam's apple.

Noah touched the right side of his neck and felt three marks along his neck, just as Hannil had suggested.

"You two all right?"

"Oh, Jesus, Mi Na!" Hannil snapped at her before his head thumped against the door.

Noah turned to see her a few feet away from them, she held some books and Hanna had a cart beside her. Noah could hear someone in the library shush them, but he couldn't suppress the way he gasped for air, he felt weaker than he ever had. Even smaller.

"You two look like you touched a ghost," Hanna said.

"Saw a ghost," Mi Na quietly corrected the phrase.

"She—she didn't have eyes," Noah stammered as he held onto the door, his brain felt as though it were swimming. It tried to keep above whatever water existed inside his skull.

"Who didn't?" Mi Na asked.

"She was bleeding," Noah said weakly before his brain felt as though it turned around and around inside his skull, shrinking each time it went.

Within a moment, Noah saw the room turn sideways, his vision was of people's feet and the floor, the bookshelves horizontal. His eyes closed as he heard his voice being called, unfamiliar voices called for help, for doctors and nurses. 

___________________________________

Noah felt as though there was a large commotion around him, bright light and voices. People moved all around and about. There were lights that went by him, through his eyelids they looked pink and distant, yet too close for comfort.

When he finally opened his eyes, the room was dark and lit only by a bright, blue light that he could not see or find. There were still people that moved in such elongated yet quick motions that they left trails of themselves behind. Between his eyes, he could see something on his nose, his breath felt strange, as if he had never breathed before.

In a moment, Noah felt pain surge through his body. As if he were suddenly reminded he was in pain for a long, long time. It was more pain than he could handle; he wanted to scream, to writhe, to stop what blood leaked from him and what pain had such a hold on him. It was internal, he thought, he thought he could feel someone's hands wrap around his insides.

Through the pain and gritted teeth, Noah felt a hand touch his hair. It might have comforted him, it moved through his hair how his mother's often had. Soft, gentle touches as if to calm him and his astray locks. Yet the hand was wet, mop-like, and held him roughly against the table.

No noise left him despite how much he wanted to scream when the hand curled into his hair and pulled his head straight, forced him to look back and his eyes met bright, blue ones, a lock of grey hair had fallen out from beneath her pale, blue cap.

"Be still," Ms. Rae said to him, "We're almost finished."

He could feel his heart race, the way his body wanted to flee, to move in any way. His breath got heavier, the smell dulled him, no matter how he wanted to fight, he was incapable.


	13. Lost Time

Drenched in cold sweat and panic, Noah awoke to his alarm clock's screech. His eyes found it easily, sat on his nightstand as it had been before; it's noise hadn't changed,  _it_  hadn't changed. Still grey and red with its little dial that seemed just a bit off each time it turned. The curtain swayed in with a breeze while morning light came in from the window.

"Cooper, the alarm," Liam's voice came in from the bathroom in such a monotonous way that Noah was surprised by it, he lifted his head and stared until Liam rapped on the wall to fortify his statement.

He reached over and slammed his hand on his alarm clock before he swung his legs over the side of his bed and felt along his chest with shaky hands. Each time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the operating room and the strange movement around him, Ms. Rae's voice echoed in the recesses of his mind.

Noah stumbled out of his bed and went to his wardrobe, opened the doors on both sides and found the mirror. He quickly lifted his shirt despite his look and distraught nature he could only focus on the haunted feeling his body had from the operation.

A fine, white line that was distinguished against his pale skin, it sat beneath the curve of his left ribs. It was so long that Noah could barely cover it with his entire hand. But it was healed, he thought as he dropped his soaked shirt and shuddered at the memory.

After a moment, Noah heard Hannil's voice:  _"Mate, your face."_  come to the forefront of his mind before he remembered the girl in the corridor, her eyeless being and the way she scratched his neck, face, and arm. Noah looked at his forearm, rubbed it roughly with his other hand and saw nothing but fine skin that was as pale as his stomach. In the mirror, his neck and face looked normal.

In the quiet, Noah could hear his own breath. In the quiet, Noah could hear things he hadn't before. He had gotten up for days and days before Liam and heard many, many noises. But he heard something that put a pause in his panic. Birds. Lots of them. People outside.

Noah went to the window and pushed aside the curtain. His brain nearly spun around again at the sight of green leaves, grass, rolling hills, a clear courtyard and a wave of pollen that went by the dormitory. Birds sang nearby, people walked by in shorts and skirts in the courtyard, the garden was full of greenery and flowers.

"Why are you panting so hard?" Liam asked as if he didn't want to.

Noah spun around and knocked over several things on his nightstand in the process. He spent a moment fumbling in attempts to get them but ended up leaving them on the floor before he approached Liam.

"Why—why is it green?" He asked.

"What?" Liam asked.

"Outside!" was all Noah could respond.

Liam paused for a long moment. "If you are pointing, it's really showing your intelligence." He said dryly before he moved forward and took a cream blazer off of the back of his desk chair, where had always kept his blazer and pulled it on.

Noah watched him for a moment or two longer before he collapsed onto his bed once more. He sat down and looked out of the window, his mind racked around at the image of late-spring rather than mid-autumn he had gotten used to. 

"Liam, you're not going to believe me," he said after a moment.

"About what?" Liam asked as he gathered his things into his bag. As usual, he was very meticulous about it as he kept his cane tucked under one shoulder.

"In the corridor, by the theater, I saw...I saw—"

"Are you going to tell me about that girl again?" Liam asked, his tone sounded annoyed and even frustrated before he continued, "I told you: I don't like scary stories. Besides, we decided a long, long time ago that you saw nothing."

"What?" Noah asked.

"Nothing!" Liam repeated with force. "Nothing happened! Why are you bringing it up  _now_?"

"What the hell do you mean 'why'! It's—" Noah was cut-off when there was a knock on the door. A voice in German called out to Liam and Noah felt as though he understood part of it, it asked about some kind of game and Liam agreed before he faced Noah as best he could.

"Drop it, Cooper," Liam said as he tapped his way to the door and quietly opened it. "No need to drudge up the past like this."

Noah stared at the empty doorway long after Liam left. He looked back out into the early morning where people were already out and about. Cream jackets and skirts, dark trousers and shirts. The Spring uniform was the only one students were allowed to add their own likes to; the Spring uniform was the most distinct out of the four. 

He went for his datebook and flipped it open, it jarred him when he saw all the marked out days, the first one that wasn't read: MAY 28th, 2018. For years Noah had a habit of marking out each day that passed right before bed. The only time he didn't was when he had to mop the hall in front of the theater.

"Sinclair!" A male voice called up the steps and Noah heard Hannil's door open and close as the other voice rattled off in French.

Noah dropped his datebook and ran to Liam's open doorway. He was so loud that both boys stopped and looked at Noah in the doorway and Noah was suddenly aware of his disheveled appearance by how they looked at him strangely.

"You alright?" Hannil asked, his green eyes went from head to toe again and again. 

"Yes," Noah answered in a panic before he went back to his room and abruptly shut the door.

He could hear the boy that had called Hannil tell him to leave Noah alone in French. Noah hadn't been able to understand them before, he couldn't understand the words but he got the meaning of it no matter his translation errors.

He held his head as his back pressed against the door. He could see his datebook on the floor, open and showed all the crossed out days of May. The more he stared, the more his head hurt. The more he stared, the more he felt the passage of time. The more he stared, the more he felt he remembered. 

_"An operating room?"_

Liam's voice echoed in his head.

 _"What do you mean they did something to you?"_ It continued.

_"You saw something in the woods and a ghost in the corridor? And now you're accusing Ms. Rae of...what **are**  you accusing her of? Vandalizing your body? Putting something inside of you?"_

Noah gripped his head tighter as if the memories were to pop his head clean off. He felt weaker the more he remembered, the more the voices came in with flashes of memories of Liam sat at his desk chair, his fingers on his book, paused in reading but only half-listening to Noah's panic.

 _"No, no,"_ the memory said,  _"you shouldn't tell anyone this. **Especially**  not Hannil. He'll just think you belong in a mental institution."_

The pressure of the memory felt too great, his ears rang in ways Noah didn't know they could. He didn't know it could hurt to hear something inside of his head, it was louder than his alarm. Louder than the ticking of a clock. Louder than the sound of his knees hitting the wooden floor, crushed beneath its weight.

 _"Oh...okay,"_  it was Hannil's voice that came in this time. It was disheartened, bitter even,  _"I suppose I misunderstood. I won't bother you again."_


	14. Pacing

Noah couldn't stop the cold sweat that engulfed his; his hands shook as he put on his spring uniform, the cream jacket and dark trousers, the dark shirt and brightly-colored tie. He thought he might pass out after he stepped into the sunlight and realized how warm it was.

There was no doubting it, Noah thought as he made his way to the castle, it was May.

Unable to shake his own panic, Noah tried to keep his hands in his pockets as he passed other students in their spring uniforms, many were out and about, friendlier and more organized than they had ever been. He watched them with stares that lasted too long; who were they? He thought, new students? New people? Were classes no longer going on?

It ran ramped through his mind as he made his way through the crowded halls until he found his way to the botanical gardens and spotted Mi Na and Hanna inside.

"Mi Na," Noah gave a harsh whisper to her when he approached, he hadn't realized how out-of-breath he was until he tried to speak.

"Noah—woah," Mi Na's voice dramatically dropped and she stared at him widely.

Noah felt his sweaty face with his hand and caught a glimpse of himself on the shiny tool next to the pot Mi Na was had ahold of. A trowel, Hannil had called it. Noah could see his hair had fallen down, yet it was shorter than he remembered, flatter too. His face was clammy and his eyes had dark circles beneath them.

"What day is it?" Noah asked Mi Na.

"Um, what?"

"Today—what is today?" Noah gasped.

"Monday," Mi Na replied before she continued: "Are you alright? You should go to the infirmary."

Noah jumped back at her offer, his back hit a nearby cart and he was soon quietly apologizing to the guy that stood nearby. The memory was too fresh to him, he thought. For a moment, he wondered how Liam ever convinced him that he saw nothing. That nothing had happened to him.

"What's going on?" Mi Na asked, "You don't look so good."

"I'm fine—just fine," Noah lied as he backtracked out of the garden. "Just feeling a bit sick is all."

"You look terrible," Hanna commented.

"I'm fine!" Noah replied a bit too forcefully, the silence was deafening around him and forced him back out of the garden.

He cursed his anxiety that he had left yet another source of information alone. It weighed on him as it had in his bedroom. The way Mi Na narrowed her eyes and stared at him for a long while worried him, but he had little idea how to handle her or the situation he faced.

As he went back out into the corridor, he pondered if he should try to talk to Liam again. They were roommates, if anyone saw him the most it was Liam. He might be blind but Noah knew that he couldn't have simply been missing for months without him noticing.

A new thought struck him when he heard some voices shout outside. A game of rugby had appeared to start in the yard; through the window, Noah could see Hannil running through the grass, only stopped when he was tackled harshly to the ground. Noah flinched at the contact, but Hannil seemed unfazed, he got up and helped up those around him.

"You can't trust him." Liam's voice rang as it did earlier throughout his head. "What is there to trust about him? He's loud and noisy, he won't follow school rules because he thinks he's above them. He doesn't care about other people. Besides, Headmaster Berg told you to stay away from him. I think that it is a good idea, his idiocy and artistry would rub off on you."

In an attempt to keep his skull together, Noah slammed the side of his hand against the wooden wall. He couldn't remember when Liam had said such words to him, but all he could remember was that he had agreed with Liam. After his eyes went back out to the yard, Noah felt his shoulders drop.

Part of him knew that if anyone in the entire castle saw what he had in the corridor, it was Hannil Sinclair. If anyone might believe him, it was Hannil Sinclair. Then why didn't Liam trust him? Noah thought; Why didn't the rest of him trust him?

______________________________

Noah couldn't remember another slice of memory from the time he lost. He couldn't remember Christmas, he couldn't remember New Year's. He couldn't remember a single instance beyond Ms. Rae, only Liam sitting in his desk chair, telling him to ignore what he saw.

For the entire day, Noah kept to himself in his room, quietly eating and trying to think of what to do. He tried to remember more and more slices of information. Night fell and Liam returned and went to sleep after changing out of his uniform. He seemed just fine with going right to sleep but Noah remembered that Liam couldn't see how panicked he looked, how his lips nearly bled from how he chewed them, teeth marks and bruises on his fingers from biting them.

After Liam had started to snore, Noah got out of his own bed and stared out of the window for a long while. He wanted to ask Liam why he couldn't trust Hannil. He wanted to ask why he couldn't talk more about what had happened. It might have been old news to Liam, but to Noah it was new.

Noah rubbed his head in a bit of agony due to his rough thinking; his hands shook and he ignored them. His questions and anxieties didn't stop until he heard soft music float through the seams of the door. He couldn't make out the words, but it was soft and had a guitar and drum along with it.

He opened his door quietly and peered out into the dark hallway; the only light came from the seams of Hannil's doors, Noah could see him pace by in his shadowed stride from the amber light that filled the cracks. He hummed very softly to his music, as if he were cautious since all were asleep.

After a moment, Noah looked back at Liam's sleeping body before he closed his own door and approached Hannil's. It was no more than a large step between their doors. The hallway was so narrow Noah wasn't convinced their doors had to open in-ward to avoid colliding.

It took a minute, then two, then three, the song changed and Hannil stopped his pacing before Noah dared knock on the door. It was so light that Noah thought he might as well hide back in his room, that he might as well return back to his safety--Hannil might not hear it, or think it was the wind. Yet he felt as though he had to say something, had to speak what truth he had. But he had to hide, he thought rapidly afterward, he couldn't bother Hannil.

Before he could hide, the door opened and Hannil's eyes stood out in the darkness of his room. He had only opened it a crack but quickly swung it open when he saw it was Noah. The smell of tobacco and something else was in the air, Hannil had a cigarette between his fingers and set it down in an ashtray before he looked back at him.

"Music too loud?" Hannil asked as he stepped back into his room, Noah could see the lit candles and record player on the floor, several dozen records set out as if he had only stopped pacing to look at them all.

"Oh, no," Noah said but Hannil turned the music down to the point of muting it entirely before he looked back at him.

Noah became acutely aware to how he was dressed and looked. He hadn't showered that day, he couldn't remember showering in the last six months, he only assumed he had. He knew he probably looked worse than when Mi Na had seen him. He probably looked more disheveled, more desperate; he out of his uniform and in his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt that should have fit him properly, but he was small and thinner than he remembered.

Hannil looked just as Noah remembered, his tawny brown skin had tanned already and made his eyes ever-greener. Like Noah, he had changed out of his uniform and into a set of joggers and a white t-shirt. His hair was the same, little curls stuck up and locked together as he came back to the door and propped his forearm on the archway and looked down at Noah.

"Is there something I can do for you?" Hannil asked.

Noah ground his teeth with anxiety and confusion. He forcibly cleared his throat.

"Have I—" he paused to clear his throat again, "Is there any way that...um...well, you see! I—" Noah fumbled and tried to look anywhere but at Hannil as he spoke.

When Hannil began to chuckle, Noah looked back up at him. Hannil had leaned fully against the doorframe and folded his arms across his chest.

"You're finally back to normal," he said with a small smirk, "got a little squeak out of you and everything."

Noah's shoulders dropped as he heard the nickname return.

"Thank you," Noah said bitterly before he paused. "'Back to normal'?" Noah asked. "I've been weird?"

"You've always been a little eccentric," Hannil replied before he shrugged, "But so am I. I like that in my friends."

"But more than usual?"

Hannil furrowed his brow line. "I'd say so."

"What—how?" Noah fumbled but didn't correct as he knew it would only cause him to stutter more.

Hannil's eyes got wide as if he wanted to laugh when he looked up and beyond Noah. He unfolded his arms to begin to count on his fingers:

"Let's see, you told me to fuck off. Then you're like a zombie for a while. You're not really doing much of anything, minding your own business, finding a friend in your roommate—I'm not complaining...just a little curious as to how I became the bad guy."

"B-Bad guy?" Noah stuttered.

Hannil took in a deep breath. "What was it that you said? You called me a 'buffoon' I remember that. Told me to never talk to you again but you had this weird look in your eye, now you're at my door like it never happened."

Noah gawked at him for a moment or two.

"I don't remember that," Noah whispered after his silence.

"'Don't remember'? Couple weeks after the girl in the corridor—oh, sorry! Mass hallucination," Hannil laughed in his throat and rolled his eyes.

Noah didn't know what look he had on his face when Hannil looked down at him again, but it stopped his laughter and made him look more concerned than anything.

"You...you really don't remember," Hannil shifted on his feet.

Noah swallowed thickly before he shook his head.

Hannil picked up his cigarette from the ashtray and took a long drag off of it before he pushed his door open and stepped away from it. Before he said softly:

"Come in, come in, the House of Hannil is open for business."


	15. Trustee

"Oh, that's maddening, innit?" were the only words that left Hannil's lips after Noah explained in an incoherent string of incoherent sentences, mixed in with continuously asking if it was fine that he was sat on the futon Hannil had rolled out on his bedroom floor.

His painting had changed to another, Noah had noticed when he came in. This one was vertical and was so abstract Noah didn't even know what he was attempting to paint. His room was messier than it had ever been, the record player played someone Hannil had said was called Queen, books and records were stacked all around, papers and sketches that were half-finished or torn apart left astray. Hannil sat with a clear ashtray that had a few cigarettes already burned out, he had smoked an entire one while Noah sat nervously on his ankles. Hannil had not interrupted him once, the only time he spoke was to hum in consent to Noah being on his secondary-bed.

Noah watched Hannil take a long drag as he looked down and away from him, deep in thought. He sat cross-legged, one elbow on his knee and his knuckles pressed to his cheekbone, he had put on a robe that hung loosely around his shoulders and crumpled down his arms, it was stained with paint in random colors, the cuffs were so stained that Noah couldn't tell what color they originally were.

"Innit?" He asked once again meeting Noah's eyes this time, passed through his nose.

With hesitation, Noah nodded. A long pause followed when Hannil seemed to soak in what he said. After a minute, Hannil mumbled something Noah didn't understand before he got off of his futon and went behind his easel. Noah couldn't stop the way his fingers tapped nervously on his knee, not even as Hannil returned with a large sketchpad and sat back down as he had before. He opened his sketch pad and Noah saw glimpses of portraits and figures sketched in dark lead or maybe charcoal as he flipped through until he showed Noah a drawing of the girl with no eyes. It was hauntingly realistic; Noah could smell her putrid flesh from the black-and-white image, hear her nails on the tile floor, hear the growl in her voice. It was such a gruesome sight, Noah had to look away as if he had been shown the girl herself.

"You remember her now?" Hannil asked.

Weakly, Noah nodded and hummed in agreement.

"And you think Ms. Rae did this to you?" He asked.

"I told you all I can remember," he said, his eyes moved back but seeing that Hannil still held the painting, his eyes went away to the dark duvet that covered the futon.

"And you think that it just happened recently?" Hannil asked.

"Yesterday," he painfully answered.

Hannil shut his sketchbook and took another drag from his cigarette. "Fucking mental," he muttered in his exhale of smoke. With the figure gone, Noah felt a bit of relief that was soon swarmed by an anxiety he had since he first figured out what month it was.

"I know I sound crazy," Noah began, "and you probably don't believe me and—and I've got issues, sure, but I have never had a hallucination in my life and never had any kind of dream like this! This happened!"

Noah watched Hannil when he got up from the futon again and went to his bed, he pulled out the box beneath his bed and he quickly began to rifle through it. Noah heard several bottles clank together before Hannil returned with a bottle of the same amber liquor that still resided at the bottom of Noah's dresser. He set down two glasses on the hardwood and carefully poured in the same amount into each.

"My grandfather has a habit of refusing to talk to anyone outside of his family until he's had three glasses of bourbon," Hannil spoke as he poured; when he lifted the glass, he said: "I now understand why."

Noah frowned a bit as Hannil took a drink from the bourbon; Hannil pressed the back of his fingers to his lips and breathed harshly through his nose, his eyes fixated on the box he had pulled out from beneath his bed.

"I'm sorry," Noah said as he began to gather himself, "I must be insane."

"What?" Hannil's voice held such a tone of befuddlement that Noah stopped his leaving. He sank back into his ankles atop of the futon.

"I believe you," Hannil said before he raised his glass, "That's why I need a few drinks."

"You...you believe me?"

Hannil nodded into his drink.

"I don't remember a long while of my life and you just...believe that?"

Hannil set his empty glass on the floor, a smirk pulled on his lips as he poured more into his cup. He set down the bottle and picked up the second glass and offered it to Noah.

"I saw the girl in the hallway," Hannil said after Noah took the glass, too afraid, he merely held it on his knee. He pointed his fingers alongside his glass at Noah, as if he were counting.

"I saw you drop to the ground in the library," Hannil said, his voice hushed, "You've been absent in your own body--but I haven't. Things are weird around here," he whispered, "Fucking off-the-wall, if you ask me."

"What do you mean?"

"Ms. Rae is too good at policing us," Hannil replied, "Where'd all these students come from anyway? Where are all the teachers? Why can't we have our phones? What's so strange about the infirmary that more-often-than-not people don't come back?" He took a drink, "I cut my leg about a week ago and had to keep quiet about it. Anyone that visits the infirmary isn't the same. I wasn't about to risk my neck for sake of curiosity."

Noah's anxiety had built a knot in his throat. He stared into his cup for a moment and tried to convince himself it was no more acidic than apple juice before he drank from the glass in the same way he had watched Hannil and countless times seen his mother do the same. Immediately, his body shuddered at the taste and feeling of it, it burned his tongue and he clasped his free hand to his mouth to keep from spitting it out; in an attempt to swallow it, Noah felt some burn his nose and sinuses before it lingered in his throat like a strange candy that clung to his being.

Hannil reached forward and quietly took the glass from his hand.

"We'll just put that back," he said softly, a small chuckle was on his breath before he muttered: "Squeaker doesn't know how to drink."

____________________________

For a while, Noah couldn't get rid of the feeling of alcohol on his throat and soon Hannil drank what he hadn't and set the empty glasses aside. He understood why his mother drank for once, before he knew it he was a lot more comfortable talking and felt clearer and better than he ever had. He relaxed with his back against Hannil's desk and talked to him about his art and life in general.

To Noah's surprise, when the birds were starting to sing and morning began to break, Hannil had to put on a pair of tortoiseshell glasses in order to see his own artwork and see what Noah pointed at.

("You need glasses?" Noah had asked.

"I'm far-sighted or whatever," Hannil had replied simply when he took them out of their case, "I see just fine for things far away but if they're within arms-reach, I can't see a damn thing."

Noah had laughed and it was the first time he had seen Hannil insecure about something. He pressed his lips together and pulled them into his cheeks, Noah thought that if it had been brighter he might have even blushed.)

Noah returned to his shared-room and nearly jumped back out of it when he saw Liam already awake and sitting on his bed. He had clearly just awoken, his alarm was buzzing on his nightstand and it didn't sound as violent as Noah's. In fact, Noah thought, it had never woken him up.

"Good morning," Noah greeted weakly as he tried to tip-toe back to his bed.

"Are you just coming back?" Liam asked. "Where have you been all night?"

Noah swallowed thickly, standing only feet from his bed but unable to move again. He felt he'd be caught by the boards' squeak.

"I've been here all night," Noah replied, a false confidence died in his throat.

"You sound like you've been awake all night," Liam replied before he took in a deep breath, "And you smell like alcohol and cigarette smoke."

His voice sounded so disappointed Noah thought of his parents; for a moment, he debated which would be more disappointed in his behavior. His father, he thought after a minute, his mother would be too drunk to notice the alcohol on him.

"Must just be the smell in the hallway," Noah replied as he went toward his dresser instead, the boards were studier there.

"You hung out all night with that artist?" Liam asked, his voice as disappointed as his father.

Noah glanced back at his door, he could hear Hannil's footsteps and what Noah guessed was him dragging the futon back beneath his bed. With the morning light filling in the gaps between the trees, Noah guessed that he had spent all night with him.

He scratched his cheek for a moment or two. "I, um," he replied anxiously.

"You did!" Liam said angrily.

"Okay! I did!" Noah whispered harshly, "You weren't going to talk to me so I had to talk to him!"

"No, you didn't!" Liam said as he swung his legs off of his bed, his feet it the floor loudly. "You could have just accepted what I told you!"

"What are you even talking about?!" Noah argued back, "I needed someone to talk to! I needed to have a friend!"

Liam huffed, "I'm your friend."

Noah shifted his weight and didn't respond, he glanced at the bathroom. He knew that Liam used the shower and bathroom before him, Noah had agreed to that condition long ago. "I'll wait out here," He replied finally, "I need to shower before classes."

Liam tossed his blankets aside and quietly walked to the bathroom. "You and I decided that he wasn't trustworthy," said Liam when he reached the archway.

"His name is Hannil," Noah retorted as he settled in his desk chair. "And I trust him."

"What? Why?"

"Because he's trustworthy!"

"How can you--of all people!--even try to claim and know what a trustworthy person is?!" Liam replied bitterly, "Look at what your parents did to you! The two people that you should trust tossed you aside like you were an old dog! You don't know how to trust anyone!"

Noah was surprised that he had told Liam about his parents; the comment pierced him but he tried not to force it down into his gut.

"I feel like I can trust him," Noah said quietly as he looked into his hands. He had little confidence in his ability; Liam was right, Noah knew that he didn't know how to trust anyone. He couldn't remember the last time he shared personal information with anyone, not even Liam. It surprised him that Liam knew so much, that Noah had trusted someone so judgemental in his past.

Liam scoffed again, "'Feel' right, because 'feeling' something has never landed you in a bad spot before." He shook his head, "If you use your head, you can see that he's untrustworthy."

"No, I can't!" Noah replied loudly, "In all honesty, I don't know why you don't trust him! Because he's an artist? Because he's in the theater department? What the hell makes him so untrustworthy?"

"What makes him so trustworthy?"

"Because he believes me! I don't know what the hell has gone on between us in the last six months, but I know that whatever you said to convince me that Hannil wasn't trustworthy is bullshit! I think he's trustworthy! I don't much care if you do or not."

Noah felt his throat go tight when Liam didn't reply. It had never been a good sign when his parents didn't respond to him. If they waited, that meant they had time to personalize their attack. To strike him harder. Before long, Noah was ready to take back his statement for the sake of peace and his own safety.

Liam stayed for a moment or two longer before he went into the bathroom and closed the door. When nothing happened, Noah let out a long breath and glanced back to the bottom of his door, wondered whether or not Hannil had heard them arguing before his attention shot back to the bathroom door when it opened again.

"You really believe you can trust him?" Liam asked.

Noah nodded and after Liam didn't respond to the gesture, he anxiously answered: "Yes."

"I guess," Liam paused, "I guess I should have faith in you then." was all he replied before he shut the door once more.

For a while, Noah quietly watched the door. He looked back to the window, quietly got up and walked to it after hearing some voices downstairs that told him others were waking up. He peered out into the courtyard and was surprised to see an older woman standing in the center of the driveway's garden. She was wearing a dark suit and grey hat, holding a briefcase and looking down at her watch.

Noah leaned against the sill to look at her closer, to see if she was one of the teachers that he had never seen before. The more Hannil had talked about never seeing a teacher, only students around their age, the truer and stranger it was. The gardener, Headmaster, and Ms. Rae weren't teachers, but this woman might have been, Noah thought.

As if she felt him looking, the woman turned her attention toward him and Noah quickly retreated back into the darkness of his bedroom. He pressed his lips together and waited before he leaned forward again and saw that she was gone. Her face had been darkened, but Noah had seen it. He didn't know why, but he thought that she was a place to start in looking for the elusive staff of Leuthold Preparatory.


End file.
